


The Sorcerer of Ephemeral Colours

by Imagined



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, BAMF Stephen Strange, Battle, Bittersweet Ending, Blindness, Color Blindness, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Poisoning, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, War, at least it's not all bad??, author doesn't know how to tag shit, but it's really only a minor thing, maybe fits better, past Stephen Strange/Mordo, would this really be a fantasy au without an epic battle scene though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 130,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagined/pseuds/Imagined
Summary: For centuries, the sorcerers of the Sanctum have been the first line of defence for the Kings and Queens of Veston.  Stephen, after becoming a Master of Time, wants nothing more than to join his fellow sorcerers in their task and pledge his life to the study of the Mystic Arts. Imagine his surprise when he gets assigned to protect the wilful prince Anthony, instead.Dark secrets start to unravel and Mastery of Time will not be enough to save the kingdom, let alone Tony. While Tony has to overcome his own difficulties, Stephen must Master all six Aspects in order to do what he was always meant to do – no matter what both he and Tony might lose in the process.Magic always requires a sacrifice, after all.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 261
Kudos: 369





	1. Green /  I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls/gifts).



> Here I am, with a story I've been working on since May. It's been slow-going, but I finally have enough written to make me confident I can keep updating on a regular basis. That's 76k, so yeah, this isn't going to be a short one. Not Citizen Erased-sized, but then again, seeing as this was only meant to be like 20k at the start, that's... not necessarily a bad thing.
> 
> Firstly: I never would've started this fic if not for [FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls/pseuds/FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls) (whom we all know as a terrific writer, I'm sure, and if you don't, go check out her fics!), who dumped an incredible idea for a magic system in the headcanon chat of the IronStrange haven's discord. We started doing the appropriate thing, which is headcanonning massively, and I couldn't leave the idea alone. I asked her if she could write it, and thankfully she was completely fine with that. 
> 
> Secondly: lots of gratitude goes to [Turtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_abyss/pseuds/turtle_abyss), who I am quite sure is the greatest beta to ever beta. Thanks for helping me not make a fool of myself :)
> 
> Sorry for the long note, guys. Have fun reading!

The day of the ceremony is always an odd one, all things considered. The hall is silent in the only way these crowded events are ever silent; a hushed whispering is still audible, but no distinctive sound finds its way above all others. All the while, Stephen kneels and awaits the words he has waited all his life to hear. The words he has worked towards for years under the tutelage of his Master.

‘’Apprentice Strange,’’ the Ancient One murmurs, though her voice is clear as day. It cuts through the whispers of the court. Stephen imagines she is looking down at him with her lips in that familiar twist; he knows she is proud of him. Everyone is – he is the youngest apprentice that has come this far in a long time.

‘’Master,’’ he responds, and keeps his eyes focused on the floor.

He hears her take a breath before she continues. ‘’You are here today, with your people gathered, because you have shown courage, cunning, wisdom and talent in your training. Your hard work and dedication to the Mystic Arts have not gone unnoticed. Today, we will make you one of our own, in blood and magic. Today, we will give you back to compensate for what you lost. Apprentice Strange, you lost your first colour last week. Will you tell your king what colour you have lost?’’

It is mere formality at this point. He just has to say the words and wait – and when he rises, he will be a Master.

He raises his face so he can watch. It takes a moment to take it all in; everything looks different, now that a colour has faded away from his vision. He had never noticed before how much green is the world before now – now, that he can only see a greyish hint of what once used to be green. He mourns the loss of his ability to see it for a mere second before his eyes focus on the king’s.

At seventy-four years old, Howard Stark isn’t as strong as he used to be. His cheeks are hollowed and his face wrinkled, but his dark eyes remain as sharp as ever. He sits on the throne before him, carefully awaiting Stephen’s words.

‘’I have lost green, my King,’’ he says. His voice is steady and calm – he has practiced so many spells for so many long hours that he has absolute control over his speech, and he makes sure it does not tremble.

King Howard rises and joins the left side of the Ancient One. Stephen feels prickles run over his skin, but he only looks down again as the king puts a hand on his head. His hand is sweaty and calloused as it rests on his hair. ‘’Apprentice Strange,’’ the King says roughly. ‘’You have mastered Time and have shown yourself capable to join the ranks of the Royal Sorcerers. Do you swear to use your abilities to protect the kingdom of Veston?’’

‘’I swear.’’

‘’Do you swear you will use your abilities to protect your king?’’

‘’I swear.’’

The hand leaves, but another kind of burden falls on Stephen’s shoulders. The Ancient One moves before him – he can see her shoes as she steps in front of him while the king moves away. They are a clear and deep red with a hint of blue and something grey – perhaps it is really grey, but it most likely is green. Stephen simply cannot tell for certain, anymore.

‘’Master Strange,’’ she says, and this time he does not have to imagine the smile in her voice, ‘’rise and meet the people whom you have sworn to defend.’’

With a flourish, Stephen gets up from where he was kneeling and rises to his full height. The court starts applauding – the right side, where the nobles are sitting, politely. The left side is full of Masters and apprentices, and their smiles are broad and sincere, their clapping enthusiastic and lively.

He does not have to fake his own smile as he looks at them. The king is back on his throne, regarding him thoughtfully. Stephen does not heed him; King Howard is his king, but the true leader of the sorcerers is their Sorcerer Supreme. And she stands before him, clasping his hand. Her eyes are the clearest blue, and Stephen realizes there must have been a hint of green in them before, now they stand out the starker.

‘’Thank you,’’ he tells her sincerely.

‘’You have done this all by yourself,’’ she whispers and releases him.

Finally, Stephen is a Master – his goal has been achieved. He cannot help but beam as he joins the other Masters. Most congratulate him on achieving Mastery, especially at his young age. Normally it takes at least a decade before someone loses their first colour, and Stephen had done it within six years of choosing a Aspect. No one had done that in at least a century, and he feels a certain pride at his accomplishment.

Finally, he is a Master, and he can join the Sanctum. Finally, he can protect Veston with his spells and be an equal to all those who have taught him since childhood. He can continue his research and save people – finally.

~*~

It is custom for a new Master to stay awake the night after – a wake, to mourn the loss of a colour and of life as an apprentice, and to focus on one’s new duties. Stephen has stayed awake through the night often enough not to mind it. He can use the time to read books and to look forward to what the next days will bring.

And yet, it is not to be.

The throne room is empty, only four hours after Stephen’s promotion ceremony. He wonders why the Sorcerer Supreme asked him to stay, but he does not question her. She is his teacher – well, she was. And yet, it feels odd.

He looks at the window with the stained glass. There are seven colours in there that fall on the floor, almost near the empty throne. The colours together represent the Mystic Arts. Stephen heard that the glass was installed by one of the first Stark queens – according to many bards, she had also been a sorcerer, a Master of Reality.

Each colour represents one of the six Aspects of magic that one could become a Master of. There is Reality first, the one specialty that was found first – the basis of knowing all things are real. It shines a blood red, and Stephen has trouble looking at it. The two colours following it are blue and purple, standing for the specialities Space and Power. On the complete right side, the window starts by a simple homely orange – the Soul. It flows over effortlessly into the yellow that represents Mind, and finally into green, for Time. Stephen only knows that the green is there, but he can’t see it anymore.

In the middle, the window is a clear white. All the colours combine easily, all meant to be. After all, the six Aspects protect the kingdom and make sure it flourishes. The king leads the people, but the Sanctum is there to keep them safe. The Sorcerer Supreme is arguably the most important person after the king; they are officially the first general of the army, though that title hasn’t been used in centuries.

‘’Stephen,’’ the Ancient One says as she enters. Stephen starts away from his thoughts and turns to look at her. King Howard follows her, all his movements less graceful than hers. There are many rumours going around about his declining health, but Stephen has never put much stock in what people say. Besides, Kamar-Taj was not close enough to court for Stephen to actually care all that much about his king as a person. But now he would presumably see a lot more of the aging leader of his country – after all, the Sanctum is located just outside the capital and Masters are seen at court often.

Not that Stephen has any interest in remaining at court. He will be content to read his books and learn more about the Mystic Arts, and use his mastery of Time to help out with any issues there might be around the country. That is all he has ever wanted, and he can leave it to others to impress the nobles.

‘’Master,’’ he says, quickly bowing to her. ‘’My king.’’

To him, he bows deeper. ‘’Master Strange,’’ the King says as he rises again. ‘’I have heard many tales about your skill. You are the youngest Master the Sanctum has received in decades, are you not?’’

Stephen glances at the Ancient One. ‘’Yes,’’ he eventually says. ‘’I am, my king.’’

‘’How old are you?’’

‘’Twenty-six, my king.’’

‘’He started training to become a Master of Time under my tutelage six years ago, King Howard,’’ the Ancient One adds, quietly putting her hands behind her back as she moves to Stephen’s side. ‘’Stephen is the finest student I have educated in all of my years. He has a bright future ahead of him.’’

King Howard circles him. His clothes all speak to his wealth – fine furs and rich tunics, and a sword that has not been used in decades at his side, its hilt glinting with gems. And nonetheless, Stephen does not doubt this man’s cunning. Their king is a learned man himself, though in a different way. But Stephen can respect knowledge in all ways it comes.

‘’You must wonder why you were asked to be here,’’ the king says eventually.

Stephen straightens his back. All his senses are screaming at him that he needs to be vigilant, now – the king is not his opponent, but he does have the power to ruin Stephen’s future, if he wants to. Not even the Sorcerer Supreme can deny the king.

‘’I am sure there is a perfectly good reason,’’ he says graciously.

The king smiles, all teeth. ‘’You will do well at court,’’ he nods and turns. ‘’Master Strange, there have been some unfortunate difficulties in the recent past. Several attempts at assassination, actually.’’

Stephen blinks, taken aback. ‘’On you, my king?’’ he asks, wondering why he is being told this.

‘’Not on me, no. Perhaps there would be, were I not surrounded with the best protection Veston has to offer. No one can get past my defences and the charms your teacher has bestowed upon me. Besides, I have the Knights of Virtue standing guard at my side all day, and the Knights of Vice in the shadows. No, I am not the one in danger here. My son Anthony is.’’

‘’Has he been injured?’’ Stephen asks carefully. He has never met the prince, but once again – there are always stories about the royal family. He has heard the only son of Howard Stark is charming and sociable, with a penchant for getting into trouble.

‘’Anthony? Oh, no. He’s resourceful and courageous – in his own way. But he also refuses to let his assigned Knight of Virtue stay with him, and I know they are close friends. He insists on his individuality and denies all attempts to protect him. So far, he has managed to escape unharmed, but I fear that it may not last.’’

Stephen lets out a breath and turns so he can look the king fully in the face. The Ancient One stands by his side, quiet and watching. ‘’Excuse me, my king, but I fail to see why I am here,’’ he says curtly.

King Howard’s lips tilt into something resembling a smile, but colder. Almost predatorily. ‘’Perhaps you still have _some_ learning to do, before you get to court,’’ he says haughtily. ‘’But yes, Master Strange, I understand your confusion. Let me clear it up for you. Anthony needs someone to protect him. As much as I believe in my son’s bravery, he has a tendency to not think things fully through. I want you to become as close as a shadow to him.’’

That is not exactly what Stephen expected to happen, here. He frowns, quietly shaking his head to himself. ‘’Why me?’’ he asks. ‘’I am a Master now. My place is at the Sanctum. I have worked for years to –‘’

‘’You will get there, Stephen,’’ the Ancient One interferes, taking a step towards him. ‘’But for now, your presence has been requested by the king himself. It is only until the danger passes.’’

‘’Anthony refuses the help of friends and family,’’ King Howard tells him. ‘’But you are a sorcerer, and now you are a Master of Time. You can protect him whether he wants it or not. He is only two years younger than you – perhaps he will come to trust you, in time. Initially, I wanted to choose someone older, but the Sorcerer Supreme convinced me that you may do a better job.’’

It is not a job Stephen wants. He looks at the Ancient One, betrayed – and yet her gaze does not waver. King Howard passes him by, and Stephen bows again. ‘’Very well, my king,’’ he says evenly. Inside him, he feels his heart beating loudly. He has dreamt for years of the day he would be promoted to the rank of Master and join the Sanctum – and it seems that he has to wait a bit longer, simply because the brat of a prince cannot take care of himself.

King Howard casts him one last glance. ‘’If my son is harmed during your protection, it will be on your head,’’ he says sternly. ‘’But if you do your job well – that will be rewarded as well.’’

With that, the king leaves the room. It is silent for a few seconds as the door slams shut behind him, and Stephen is alone with the Ancient One. He turns to her accusingly. ‘’Why?’’ he demands. ‘’You know that I want to go to the Sanctum.’’

She regards him. ‘’You have lost your first colour,’’ she says.

Stephen huffs. ‘’I know,’’ he says. ‘’That is why I am here in the first place.’’

‘’Green will not be the only colour you will lose, Stephen.’’ Her smile is kind, but Stephen takes a step back as if he is struck. Becoming a Master in more than one Aspect – it generally isn’t done. Giving up one colour is enough for anyone, and already reason for respect. Stephen knows all there is to know about how to use spells of Time, and that is how he earned his Mastery. To work at knowing more specialties so deeply – that takes dedication and skill that not many sorcerers have.

‘’What are you implying?’’ he says, though he knows fully well what she means. Just like him, the Ancient One is a Master of Time. She must have looked into his future – an intricate spell, and not one that is always as accurate as believed. And yet, she does not seem to doubt her own words.

He does not know how him achieving mastery in the other specialities is relevant to this, however. And yet, she turns away. ‘’I will not be around forever,’’ she says. ‘’And neither will King Howard, as much as he likes to deny it. Stephen, you have been a perfect student – and yet, now you are a Master, there is more for you to learn than ever. My hope is that you will learn it here, at this court.’’

‘’There is nothing for me here,’’ Stephen says.

‘’And that, Master Strange, is where you are wrong.’’ She smiles kindly, even as she paces through the room. She stops at where the light falls, tinted in all colours by the stained glass.

‘’How?’’ he asks. He has asked her the same question so many times through the years that it is almost too familiar.

She turns towards him, but the coloured light falls on her robes now. ‘’There are seven colours, here,’’ she says. ‘’Six for the Mystic Arts, and white. Do you know why white is there, Stephen?’’

‘’For where the sorcerer starts,’’ Stephen says. He has known this story all his life – like all sorcerers, he has lived it. ‘’Children with the gift for magic can only see in white – they are essentially blind until they cast their first spell, and the first bit of colour disappears with their energy. This is how we know which children to take to Kamar-Taj.’’

‘’You are right, of course,’’ she mutters, and moves her robe. The colours dance over the orange cloth, and she watches them with obvious intrigue. ‘’I’ve always lamented that they did not add black.’’

‘’What?’’ Stephen asks, frowning.

‘’Never mind it, Stephen. That is nothing for you to worry about right now. You have a very important task – guard prince Anthony Stark. I did not do this to annoy you, I hope you trust. As I said, King Howard and I will not be King and Sorcerer Supreme forever. Anthony is his heir, and it is my belief he will make a wonderful king. And as for Sorcerer Supreme – I have laid my groundworks. If you continue the path you are on, Master Strange, you may very well be my own successor, and a trusting relationship between you and the future king will be beneficial to everyone.’’

Stephen blinks, turning to face her fully. ‘’You want me to become Sorcerer Supreme?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ she adds, her eyes twinkling. ‘’I have some time left in me, and there are still lessons you have to learn. We all make our own futures, but yours may have some surprises before the end. Prince Anthony is much like you, in some ways – too stubborn for his own good, and yet too smart to prove that it’s a bad thing for him to be so. Do not underestimate him. I have to return to the Sanctum now, but you should probably find your own chambers. They should be near the royal wing.’’

Stephen sighs. ‘’This is going to be troublesome, isn’t it?’’

~*~

There are always enough people at court – too many for Tony to know everyone. He knows most, however, and even if he doesn’t, he has made a point of recognizing faces. It is probably safe to say that Tony can name the majority of nobles – and the occasional sorcerer – that have made a home in the Palace and the surrounding buildings. Ireningas, their age-old capital, has plenty of space for all the nobles and their families.

Most of those nobles, however, do not even venture close to the royal’s wing. Only the Knights of Virtue and Vice and the guards and maids are allowed in, as well as the Council. And most of those people, Tony knows by name.

So it is odd to see a new face wandering the hallways. His expression equals that of someone who is lost, but his cloak is rich and new, and his tunics a dark blue. It provides a sharp contrast to his pale skin. The newcomer is tall and lanky, but his graceful movements leave no doubt to what he is, if the garments hadn’t informed Tony sufficiently before.

A sorcerer has wandered into the royal’s wing. A new Master, by the looks of it.

‘’Good evening,’’ he says, and grins when the sorcerer stiffens. Slowly, he turns to him, and Tony’s suspicions are confirmed. The sorcerer is still young, but his look is one of pride. His eyes are the clearest blue Tony has ever seen, piercing and cold, and his cheekbones are sharp enough to cut. He is a beauty, but a distant one – something to admire from afar, and not to be wandering lost at court.

‘’Good evening,’’ the sorcerer says quietly. His voice is low and rumbling, and Tony smiles in response to it.

‘’You seem like you’re lost,’’ he says, leaning against the wall. If his father could see him, he would have made a fuss about Tony not maintaining the perfect stature befitting of a prince – but Howard isn’t here, and Tony doesn’t care enough. ‘’You know this is the royal’s wing, right? If the wrong person caught you snooping, you’d be thrown in a cell for a night. And believe me, it’s not a place you want to be.’’

‘’Sounds like you have some experience in that regard,’’ the sorcerer remarks dryly, looking up and down him with raised eyebrows. ‘’I am, indeed, lost, but not in as far as you seem to think. I am supposed to find my chambers, but I don’t actually know where they are, and I can’t find anyone to lead me there.’’

Tony narrows his eyes at him. ‘’You’re a Master, aren’t you?’’

‘’I am,’’ the sorcerer answers. ‘’What does it matter to you?’’

Tony huffs in amusement as he crosses his arms. ‘’Why do you need chambers here if you’re a Master?’’ he asks. ‘’The Sanctum won’t take too much time to reach, especially with a horse. It’s only on the other end of Ireningas. It won’t take any time at all if you’re a Master of Space, as I’ve always understood it – don’t they have those fancy portals? Anyway, we have plenty of sorcerers who spend a lot of time at court, but I don’t think any of them have lodgings here.’’

‘’Yes, well, my case isn’t theirs. And if you are not going to be of any help, I had best be on my way.’’

With that, the sorcerer turns. His cloak – red, like all of the sorcerers’ cloaks are – swirls behind him. He narrows his eyes at the item of clothing, noticing the green stitches in the seams. That means he’s dealing with a Master of Time. He does not know many of the sorcerers, despite the number of them that deal with life at court. He only knows the Sorcerer Supreme vaguely, and only because of the importance of her work with the king. Howard doesn’t like her much, however, and the lack of affection is mutual, so Tony hasn’t often had the chance to speak to her personally.

‘’Wait!’’ he calls out. He isn’t done talking to the sorcerer yet – this is the first interesting person he has come across all week. And all the sorcerers at court are usually old and stuffy, as the young ones are always back at the Sanctum to study. Tony is naturally curious, and this is the youngest Master he has ever conversed with.

The sorcerer waits, regarding him with a blank face as Tony catches up to him, standing in front of him as if to stop him from moving. ‘’Yes?’’ the sorcerer says, raising a single eyebrow.

‘’I never offered you my help in the first place,’’ Tony points out, shifting where he stands. ‘’But I still want to know why a Master needs chambers inside the palace when you have a perfectly good Sanctum right there.’’

The sorcerer tilts his head. His eyes are sharp as they take in Tony’s every feature. ‘’You are prince Anthony, are you not?’’ he says, and there is some amusement in his voice. ‘’Do you make it your own special task to guard the hallways, my prince?’’

Tony steps back. ‘’How did you know?’’

The sorcerer smiles at that – his grin tugs at one side of his face, and it’s quite charming. ‘’You have the same eyes as the king, whom I had the pleasure to meet with today. Twice, even. And I doubt ordinary Knights would stop to make small-talk with a person they believe to be in the royal’s wing unauthorized. They would have kicked me out already.’’

There is some logic in that, but Tony pouts anyway. ‘’It’s rude to not answer your prince’s questions,’’ he reminds him, ‘’and besides, you never even told me your name.’’

‘’It’s Stephen Strange,’’ the sorcerer tells him. ‘’And as for your questions – I’m not sure I am allowed to tell you, my prince.’’

‘’Not allowed to –‘’ Tony sputters as Stephen Strange grins. ‘’But I’m the prince.’’’

He doesn’t often use his title like that. His father throws it around often enough when he doesn’t get his way – as if anyone is unaware of the fact that Howard Stark leads the kingdom – but Tony believes in earning respect. He can’t ask anyone to follow him if he’s not willing to earn that trust and confidence. However, he also hasn’t met anyone this infuriating before.

‘’I am fully aware, your highness,’’ Master Strange continues. ‘’But I am here on orders of the King himself, and I do believe that he ranks just slightly higher than you do.’’

Orders of the King. Tony narrows his eyes at the sorcerer – the man seems unperturbed, merely hiding his hands away in his cloak as he impassively stares back. Howard does not often bother with the sorcerers of the Sanctum; not unless he needs their services for something that he himself has been unable to do for a long while.

And Tony is only aware of one thing that Howard has been failing at, the past few months. ‘’Don’t tell me my father sent you to babysit me,’’ he groans, backing away. ‘’A sorcerer? He must be really mad at me.’’

‘’Merely concerned, my prince,’’ Strange says, and Tony is getting slightly exasperated at the expression of neutrality on the Master’s face. ‘’And if I have to say, perhaps that worry is justified. Here you are, after all, alone in an empty hallway, talking to a stranger with not the least bit of concern.’’

‘’Are you saying that you’re a danger?’’ Tony says in amusement.

‘’I could have been.’’

‘’I think I could take you,’’ he bites back, taking one step forward so he’s eye-to-eye with the sorcerer. Stephen Strange may be tall and agile, but Tony isn’t a stranger to fighting. Sorcerers may be something different, but he’ll be damned if he backs down.

Strange’s eyes narrow. ‘’I am sure you could, my prince,’’ he says, not rising to the bait. Still, Tony waits him out, not losing the eye contact. There is an electric tension, and Tony just wants to take another step forward – to see how far he can take this – when a maid appears around the corner.

Perhaps she is surprised to see him, but she just rolls her eyes and smiles wryly. She knows far better than most that Tony always turns up in places he is not supposed to be – even if this is the royal wing.

‘’Prince Anthony,’’ Friday says, curtsying only because there is someone else who could possibly tell her off if she didn’t show the prince some respect. Normally, she doesn’t bother. ‘’Master Strange. I was looking for you, Master Strange, to lead you to your new rooms.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ Strange says, inclining his head to her. Then he bows curtly to Tony. ‘’Prince Anthony. I am sure I will see you around far more often.’’

‘’You can try,’’ Tony mutters. Strange’s eyes glint, and he thinks that the corner of his mouth is tilting – but the sorcerer turns to go after Friday before he can know for certain.

Tony looks after them. This might be interesting.

~*~

Stephen stays awake all night, kneeling before his bed. His eyelids are heavy, but he does not give into sleep. He wants to hold a wake, whether he is in the Sanctum or not; if he cannot join the sorcerers, then he can do this, at least. It is holding on to the last bit of tradition, even if he feels bitter about not being able to join his people.

Besides, he does not know if he could sleep even if he tried. Thoughts are buzzing through his mind too quickly to keep up with. He knew beforehand that this day was going to be important, but he did not know that _this_ was going to happen.

He is in the King’s service now – to serve Veston in another way than he believed he was going to, before. His task is to guard the young prince of the realm and ensure his survival. It must be a doable task.

Stephen thinks back to his encounter with the prince. He had not known it was him until he’d inspected him more thoroughly – his eyes had glowed almost golden when he came closer. The rumours suddenly make sense to him, now that he has seen Anthony Stark: a charming prince with a devious grin. There is something alluring about the heir to the throne – and something that tells Stephen that he is going to make his life a lot more complicated. Anthony does not seem to want anyone to guard him, and it might prove difficult for Stephen to do so.

He does not mean to fail at his task. It would be such a blow to his pride if he would mess up his first task as a Master – even if it’s not exactly an ordinary task that he was asked to perform. No, if Stephen has anything to say about it, he’ll become Anthony’s shadow.

He starts thinking about a plan until the sun rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: this fic originally had 7 parts planned for it. Those parts still exist, but I've had to divide them up in several chapters. This is because some of these parts are easily 20k, and I've polled some people on the best chapter length. The thing I concluded from this is that 20k chapters are generally not really considered the best thing ever for most people. This means the chapters are not really actual 'chapters', per say, but more like parts of a larger part posted seperately. If chapters break up suddenly or weirdly - well, I'm trying to make it as natural as possible, but that'd be the reason why. I hope you all enjoyed and maybe I'll see you next chapter ;)


	2. Green / II

The dinner is even more formal than usual, and Tony is annoyed by the forced festivity. The nobles have all adorned their best outfits, which means everyone is severely impractically dressed and undeniably uncomfortable. Tony likes to get away with eating by himself, whenever he can, but he can’t shirk his duty today.

It is the start of summer, and the Feast of the Sun is an annual holiday. It means that all the nobles and high-standing sorcerers are invited to dine at the King’s Keep, an extensive feast having been laid out for them. Two long tables are standing next to each other – one for the nobles, all dressed up in shining armour and long detailed dresses, made especially for the occasion in all kinds of bright colours. The other table is for the sorcerers, all respected Masters with their red capes, a hint of colour suggesting what Aspect they’ve Mastered.

The Sorcerer Supreme sits on the far end of the third table, the one before the first two. This table is reserved for only the highest of ranks: the King sits in the middle, visible for all to admire. He has picked the largest crown to wear, and the way the gold shines on his head, Tony knows it has been polished beforehand. He has settled for the smallest crown he could find – a discrete silver band resting on his dark curls, barely having any weight to it. It was made for the youngest son of a king long passed, a prince who had not wanted much notice to be given to him. It fits Tony’s purposes well enough, considering he only wears one because he is forced to, on these occasions.

Rhodey is sitting to the King’s left, his mandatory position as the leader of the Knights of Virtue. Rhodey used to be assigned to Tony, but recent events had made the King rotate some positions. Now Rhodey is promoted to more important things than the wayward prince, and other minions have taken over his job. It had been a step forward for his friend, though Tony misses the days of old, when it had been the two of them. Not that he’d made it any easier for Rhodey to guard him.

On the King’s right sits Obadiah Stane, his main advisor. The bald man sends Tony a rueful grin and Tony wishes he were sitting in his father’s position. Rhodey is his friend and Obi is more like a father to him than Howard has ever been. Instead, he is positioned between one of his Knights of Virtue, Steve Rogers, and the mysterious Strange who hasn’t spoken a word to him since their meeting in the hallway.

Strange is an enigma. He wears his red cape, threaded with green, like the Knights of Virtue wear their armour. Tony hasn’t made it easy for the sorcerer to follow him, and yet Strange had not taken it like a disappointment. It seemed like a challenge to him – and yet, it’s hard to tell. Strange is composed and quiet, and never fails to find Tony’s whereabouts eventually. The only place he doesn’t seem to have found yet is Tony’s private forge, and he means to keep it that way.

Maybe Tony will have to try a bit harder to get rid of this one. He’s gathered that Strange is the youngest sorcerer to have become a Master in recent decades, so obviously the man has a quality to him that Tony doesn’t know of. And he doesn’t have anything better to do, so he turns to his appointed guardian. The entire King’s Keep is full of noisy laughter and rumbling, and yet their side of the table has been mostly silent. He means to change that.

‘’Don’t you want to be sitting with them?’’ he asks, waving his hand at the table full of Masters. Almost all of them must be twice Strange’s age, but at least he’ll have more in common with them. Probably he can talk about whatever sorcerers talk about at events like these.

‘’It hardly matters what I want,’’ Strange answers curtly. His hands are folded on his lap, his plate only half-empty. It seems their resident sorcerer doesn’t have much of an appetite.

Tony leans back in his chair. ‘’I wasn’t asking if it mattered,’’ he points out. ‘’We’re at court. If you think anyone in here has a say in what they get, you’re mistaken. We all have a role here, and wishes don’t get a say in it.’’

Strange eyes him. ‘’Odd words, for the heir to the throne,’’ he says evenly.

‘’That’s a role,’’ Tony says, smiling like he means it. ‘’No one asked me if I wanted it.’’

‘’Do you want it?’’ the sorcerer asks.

Tony’s smile broadens. ‘’It doesn’t matter what I want,’’ he echoes, crossing his arms. 

‘’I do not believe that,’’ Strange says, his tone as composed as ever, though his eyes are a bit brighter. ‘’Your willingness to be the heir, and eventually the king, decides what the country will become. The monarch shapes the realm and its inhabitants. A cruel leader leads to a desperate world, while a kind king will create a brighter future. It matters, whether you want this or not. It matters whether you care.’’

Tony shouldn’t be surprised. The sorcerers of the Sanctum are always eager to make the best possible world of Veston – their entire job is to make sure their borders are safe and no threat will come, and to maintain peace. And yet to hear a young man speak so passionately about Tony’s future duties is different. It has never been a question of Tony _wanting_ to be king – it has always been his task. But Strange looks oddly passionate, and he realizes that for a sorcerer, the future security of the realm is the ultimate goal. And Tony is one of the major parts in that.

‘’And do you think I care?’’ he asks lightly. Strange’s eyes roam over his face – intently studying his every twitch, Tony feels. He has to try hard not to fidget under the light gaze. He remembers with a start that sorcerers are born with their eyes fully white, an indicator of their proclivities. Magic takes away colour – white would bloom into a natural eye colour, when the first spark occurs. Maybe the white never fully left Strange’s eyes, light as they are. These are not the eyes of a regular man.

It takes perhaps a few seconds too long for Strange to answer. ‘’I am not sure,’’ the sorcerer says good-humouredly, as if they were only joking before. ‘’We’ll have to see, won’t we?’’

Tony turns away, focusing on the meal that is put before him in a matter of seconds. Strange’s composed manner only serves to remind Tony that he is not suited for the games of court – trained as he may be in them, Tony prefers his workshop and metalwork. The grandiose dinners and lavish feasts don’t matter as much to him as they do to the other nobles, but he has worn the mask of a prince ever since he could remember.

Wearing the mask gets wearying, sometimes.

‘’My mother would have agreed,’’ he says quietly, and couldn’t tell himself why he does so. He barely talks about his mother – not since her death. ‘’My father wouldn’t, you know. He says you can tell what kind of monarch someone will be when they’re still just a toddler.’’

He’s not looking at Strange anymore, but he can still feel that gaze on him. ‘’Your mother sounds like she was a wise woman,’’ he says. Tony doesn’t know if he doesn’t ask what his father thinks of him on purpose - if he senses that Tony is failing all expectations his father has ever set him, and he refuses to ask out of kindness or politeness. If the sorcerer knows that it’s implied, already.

He thinks of the last time he saw his mother – gasping on the floor, her hands reaching out for someone who would save her. He wishes he’d sat next to her, so he’d seen her face one last time without that expression. Maybe her smile wouldn’t be so blurry in his memory, if he had.

‘’She was,’’ he says, and falls quiet.

~*~

Her words linger in his mind – he can’t help it. _Green will not be the only colour you will lose, Stephen_. The Ancient One has always tended to be clandestine and furtive when it suits her, and he knows she will not answer any question he would think to ask her. She never has before, certainly.

It must have been a vision. The Masters of Time can look forward in Time, though it’s not the same as knowing the future, if there is a pressing question in mind that must be answered. But that is only ever done for the safety of the kingdom, and Veston has not been in danger for many decades. They are at peace and have been for a long time – a life as sorcerer demands knowledge of various political relations, and Stephen would dare to bet that nothing is brewing, outside. There is even a new alliance with Menteri. So why has she looked, and why is he relevant?

And why are his colours of importance, as well?

His old mentor does everything for a reason. There must be a reason for her to have looked, just as there must have been a reason for her to put him in court, despite his ardent wishes to continue studying in the Sanctum – the place he has worked to be for years. Not here, with the ambitious sorcerers who wish to rise in the world of the nobles, but with the ones who appreciate knowledge instead of riches.

All he can think of is the threat to prince Anthony.

He has been here for several days, but the prince has a way of getting by unseen – or maybe he has made himself liked enough that no one likes to spill the beans on him. He has been informed that Anthony spends most of his days, when not dealing with his duties as crown prince, at the forge, creating. And yet, he’d barely ever found the prince in the forge.

The troubles with his new task notwithstanding, no one had made a move against Anthony yet. And yet, if his suspicions are right, it’s important for him to stay sharp and find a way to keep an eye on the prince more often.

‘’Master Strange.’’

Stephen opens his eyes to look at the man in the door opening. King Howard is above knocking, it seems, and he feels a surge of annoyance. The King’s crown is a shining golden, contrasting with his silvery hair. His tunic is grey, to Stephen’s eyes, which means it’s probably green. His sword still hangs on his hip as if he still uses it on a day-to-day basis.

‘’My King,’’ he says politely, though he can’t help the slight coldness to his tone. He does not appreciate the intrusion on his privacy.

If the King notices, he doesn’t show it. He takes a step in, closing the door behind him. ‘’You haven’t made yourself much at home, have you?’’ he asks, glancing around the room with a hint of distaste and a bitter curl to his lips.

Stephen glances around his own room. It’s small and vacant except for the bed in the corner of the room. A casket stand behind it for his clothes, and there is an empty desk on the opposite side. It looks exactly how it was when Stephen first got here, just over a week ago. He does not feel the need to decorate the room much more, considering the only time he spends here is for sleeping. He wanders around the castle during the day, trying to keep track of prince Anthony or trying to find information on who might be attacking him.

‘’I don’t have many personal belongings,’’ he reminds the King. ‘’I came right from Kamar-Taj before being tasked with this job, my King.’’

The King harrumphs. ‘’Well, I suppose it only matters whether you do your job right,’’ he says, turning. ‘’Have you found any clues as to who might be after my son?’’

‘’None, my King.’’

‘’I saw you talking to him during the Feast of the Sun. Is he inclined to accept you as a guard?’’

Stephen winces as he thinks back to that day. He isn’t sure how the prince feels about him, actually. They hadn’t spoken since that Feast, and Anthony hadn’t let him anywhere near. He wonders if their conversation made the prince think better of him or if he ruined his chance of ever getting accepted as a guard.

‘’I’m working on it,’’ he eventually says.

The King turns to him. ‘’You are still a young Master with much potential.’’ His voice is cold, despite his words. ‘’The Sorcerer Supreme seemed convinced you were the person for this job. I don’t know why she believes that, but she has always served me as well as I could’ve hoped for.’’

‘’She is very wise,’’ Stephen says quietly.

The King smiles for the fraction of a second. ‘’Then prove that to me and don’t make me fire you,’’ he says. ‘’Your job is to stick with my wayward son and protect him every step of the way. If you don’t find a way to do this within a fortnight, I’ll find another for the job. Good night, Master Strange.’’

Without waiting for an answer, he leaves the room. The door falls shut behind him and Stephen closes his eyes. Two weeks. He has two weeks before he’ll have officially failed at his first task as a Master.

He’s not going to let it happen.

~*~

‘’Most of these contracts are mere formalities, at this point,’’ Pepper says, watching as Tony scribbles down his signature. ‘’But we can’t be protected too much, especially when it comes to trade agreements.’’

‘’I thought the diplomats were still in Menteri,’’ Tony mutters. ‘’I can’t believe we have contracts to sign before the actual contracts. The talks aren’t finished, right? It can still go either way.’’

‘’We know what the Menteri want, Tony,’’ Pepper says sternly, but there is a hint of amusement in the way her eyebrow arches. ‘’This will save you time after the diplomats return. The new agreements with Skida will also arrive around the same time, so you won’t have to sign off on dealings with two countries at once.’’

‘’I don’t even know why I’m supposed to do this. You’re the one in charge of all this, why can’t you sign off?’’ It’s an age-old argument, and they both know it. Pepper has been dealing with him since the day he took up his princely duties. She had been young, back then, just having taken over from the former Treasurer, but she’d been hard-working and all too willing to blackmail a certain impressionable prince.

‘’Because my father isn’t the King of Veston,’’ Pepper says easily, and shoves another document under his nose. ‘’Here, sign this one. With the red ink, please, don’t use that one. Tony, honestly, what did they even teach you in prince-training?’’

‘’I don’t know, I never paid attention.’’

A knock on the door interrupts them. Before either of them can answer it, Obadiah already appears, a ready smile on his face. ‘’Ah, Lady Virginia, as beautiful as ever,’’ he says. ‘’Anthony, just where I’d hoped I’d find you. Are you all done with your duties?’’

‘’All the ones I can’t avoid doing,’’ Tony says, eyeing Pepper and her stack of paper. He likes Pepper – he _loves_ Pepper, she’s as close as a sister to him as he can hope to have – but his right hand is starting to cramp and if he doesn’t get away now, he might be stuck here for another two hours.

Obadiah laughs. ‘’Excellent,’’ he says, and lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, almost as if to steer him away.

Pepper raises his eyebrows at Tony, and he doesn’t doubt that she is fully aware of what he is doing. He just waves goodbye at her before Obadiah pushes him through the door, back into the hallways of the Palace. The Treasurer’s Hall is near the throne room, but Obadiah sends him the other way instead – towards the royal wing. Tony just follows, wondering what this might be about.

‘’Anything the matter, Obi?’’ he asks, glancing at the guards they pass.

Obi stops and sighs, ducking into his personal study. They’re not in the royal wing, but they’re just on the border. It doesn’t truly matter, anyway, as his rooms are as royally decorated as the King’s.

Tony closes the door behind him when Obadiah signs for him to sit. The curtains rustle as a summery wind gushes through the windows, and Tony moves slightly so the sunlight will fall on his hands.

‘’I am concerned about you,’’ Obadiah says. ‘’Don’t protest – I know it has all been said before. You don’t think there is anything to worry about, but you must understand that I’m your godfather, Tony. It’s my job to worry.’’

‘’My father got a sorcerer to watch me,’’ Tony says sourly. ‘’I think any more protection would kill me before any enemy got to it.’’

Obadiah smiles and sits before him, leaning over as if he’s conspiring with him. ‘’Is the sorcerer here now? I don’t think so. Besides, it’s more than just enemies that concern me, boy. The Feast of the Sun is the first time I’ve seen you at dinner in a long time. Eating is important, whether you’re being threatened or not. And when is the last time you were in the forgery? I know you enjoy making weapons.’’

‘’There’s been a lot to arrange,’’ Tony says, almost apologetically. Obadiah is one of the few people who have an interest in his skills as a smith. In fact, Obadiah often takes out his weapons to find them new owners. It’s not anything Tony can do for himself, as he’d be recognized too easily, and he doesn’t have any contacts. This way, at least, his weapons can be used to protect his people.

‘’I’m not blaming you,’’ Obadiah says. ‘’I want you to be safe and sound, Tony. Your father’s interest is in your continued health, and that is why he takes the precautions that he does, but you and I know that it can be too much. Just do what you can, and I will arrange for everything else.’’

‘’Thanks, Obi.’’ Tony smiles, and stands. His hands are warm from the sunlight, and he doesn’t have any more things to do today. As long as he can avoid Pepper’s contracts, at least. ‘’I’ll go do that.’’

‘’Take care, boy!’’

~*~

The Knight of Virtue is easily recognizable in the courtyard, training with some fellow Knights of his. One of them is the broad-shouldered blond that was at the Feast of the Sun as well, Stephen sees, but he doesn’t know the other.

‘’Knight Rhodes,’’ he calls out, folding his hands over each other as he waits.

The man waits a few moments before he turns around, his partners quitting the ongoing training.

‘’The sorcerer,’’ the Knight says, a smile on his face that Stephen doesn’t know what to make of. ‘’Can I help you?’’

‘’I’m Master Stephen Strange,’’ he introduces himself. ‘’I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time.’’

‘’You already have.’’ Rhodes’ smile seems more sincere now, though, and he steps out of the ring. The other Knights continue their training, circling each other and their swords clanging against each other.

‘’I think you know why I am here,’’ Stephen says. Knight Rhodes, presumably, did not become the highest-ranking Knight by being obtuse. Especially counting the fact that there are other Knights with more experience.

Rhodes tilts his head. ‘’You’re here to ask about Tony. I don’t know what to tell you, Master Strange. I’ve known him for most of my life, but there is no figuring him out. Let alone protecting – he hates the thought.’’

‘’I know the urgency of the situation,’’ Stephen says quietly. ‘’I know, somewhat, of your history with him. You’re his friend, aren’t you? And I understand – if he won’t let you protect him, then he won’t let anyone near him. I’m not in the habit of giving up, Knight Rhodes. You might know the prince very well, far better than anyone else, but you don’t know _me_. I have been told to protect him, and so I will. I can figure it out by myself, or you can make sure that your friend is as safe as can be.’’

Rhodes regards him silently for a few moments. ‘’Prove it,’’ he says. ‘’If you can protect him, you need to be quick and ready for everything. He won’t allow anything else. So show me that you can, and I’ll be on your side, as long as you’re on Tony’s.’’

‘’Gladly,’’ Stephen says.

The Knight quits the fight behind him with a single gesture. The blond Knight, Rogers, hands him one of the swords. It’s blunt, Stephen sees when accepting it, but it can still do some damage.

‘’Good luck,’’ Rogers says with a kind nod. Stephen thanks him, and readies his stance. It’s been a while since he had a duel, but with a goal in mind, he shifts back into position as if he was born to it.

Rhodes waits him out, for one second, two seconds – then he moves, and Stephen knows exactly what to do.  
~*~

Tony doesn’t need to turn around to know that someone’s entered his forgery. The door creaks in a familiar way, though the steps are more silent than the ones of anyone who usually comes to visit him here. They are not the bouldering steps of the guards, nor the shuffling of Pepper. It’s not Rhodey either, who would’ve come in talking to him.

The figure behind him just waits while Tony carefully examines his newly-created sword. The blade shines in the glow of the fire as he puts it down, turning towards the sorcerer.

Stephen Strange regards him calmly. ‘’You’re not an easy man to find, my prince.’’

Tony shrugs. ‘’If you say so.’’

‘’This is what you do?’’ Strange asks, his eyes going over the room. ‘’You create weapons in your free time? I’ve never seen anyone forge something before.’’

The first time Tony saw a sword being forged, he was four. It’d been his father’s pastime when he was younger as well, though he seems to have forgotten all about it while ruling his kingdom. ‘’I don’t create just weapons,’’ he points out. ‘’I create all kinds of stuff. How did you find me?’’

Strange doesn’t answer, slowly running his fingers over an axe Tony had made a few months ago. There is no dust that comes off. Tony loves creating things best, but he knows the importance of keeping the weapons clean and sharp. Maintaining is just as important and so he gives it just as much attention.

‘’Your friend,’’ Strange says eventually, his eyes still glued to all the weapons as he walks past them, slowly edging towards Tony. ‘’The guard – James Rhodes. He seemed awfully concerned about you. I convinced him of my ability to guard you.’’

There is no doubt to what that means. ‘’You whooped his ass,’’ Tony says admiringly. ‘’Rhodey is a great fighter. How did you get past him? No offense, but I thought you mainly read books learning how to be a sorcerer.’’

‘’A Master,’’ Stephen corrects him absent-mindedly, now bowing over a bow Tony had made. To be fair, it was one of his best. ‘’All of us are born as sorcerers, but not everyone can become a Master. Not everyone chooses to. And you are wrong, in any regard. The Sanctum is the defence of the throne. There are the practical sides of spells to consider as well as physical training. Which, yes, includes fighting.’’

Tony raises his eyebrows. ‘’So you like that sword?’’ he asks, nodding to the one Strange currently admires. ‘’You know, you’ve never seen someone forge something, but I’ve never seen a Master cast a spell.’’

There is a faint smile to Strange’s lips. Tony knows that the sorcerer will know what he’s up to. ‘’We are careful about our magic,’’ Strange concedes. ‘’The spell that gave me my status as a Master – you wouldn’t be able to see it.’’

‘’What was it?’’ Tony asks.

‘’I stopped everything in time – everything but me.’’

Tony can’t even imagine what that would feel like. ‘’Why did you choose Time?’’ he asks. ‘’Don’t you have five other Aspects you could have picked?’’

Strange’s smile is soft and he lets go of the weapons. This time, he fully focuses on Tony. ‘’Yes and no,’’ he answers. ‘’How did _you_ know that you wanted to create? That you wanted to be a blacksmith?’’

‘’I’m a prince,’’ Tony says immediately. He’s heard this complaint often enough.

Strange doesn’t seem to mean it in that way, as he simply tilts his head. ‘’You can be both,’’ he says simply, as if he isn’t the only person who’s ever said that to him. ‘’The thing is – it must have appealed to you. The desire to create, there for as long as you can remember. And desire seeps into your bones until it is part of you, driving you on. To learn and to become better at the thing you want to do most in the world. To let it become part of who you are.’’

Tony shivers at Strange’s voice, the words picking apart all the things he has ever felt about creating. ‘’So what’s that for you?’’ he asks, clenching the handle of the new sword he is still holding.

‘’Time does not like to be controlled. It needs to be reigned in carefully with whispers. Time is continuation of all, you see – he who holds time is he who holds life. The other Aspects have their own allures, but none has ever spoken to me as much as Time. It’s not as straightforward a concept as Power or Reality – it’s more than that. No one can realistically define Time. To gain my title as a Master, I stopped time – for how long? I don’t know. It could have been the length of our days on Earth, or it could have been no time at all. It didn’t exist, you see. _I_ existed, and I held all that knowledge in the palm of my hand. I strolled through the gardens to see birds suspended in the air. There was no wind, no sound, nothing. A man could have gone insane right there, but I loved it. And so I became a Master.’’

For all Tony knows about the Sanctum and its sorcerers, he has never heard such a story before. He understands the appeal, now – with the picture Strange has painted for him, how can he not? He feels lost in time when he forges a new piece, exhilarating and free. He always imagined the sorcerers trapped in their fate. After all, one didn’t choose to be one – they were born with milky eyes, losing their colours.

Suddenly, he wonders what in the room is green. What can’t Strange see anymore? Is it worth that price? From the look in Strange’s eyes, it is. It must be.

‘’Is it odd?’’ he asks. ‘’You can’t see green anymore, can you? Didn’t you feel like you were giving a part of yourself up?’’

For all Tony’s skills as a blacksmith, he doesn’t have to give up part of his vision for it. There’s no such sacrifice for anyone but a sorcerer.

Strange shrugs. ‘’It’s one colour of many,’’ he says. ‘’It’s not much of a price to pay. If I gave something up, then it’s nothing in comparison of what I gained. I’ve longed for the guidance of the Sanctum, you see. There’s nothing more I ever wanted than to learn about the Mystic Arts. I was born for the greater good, much like you were. You are here to lead your people, and I am here to protect them.’’

It sounds like a fairy-tale, if he says it like that. Tony knows enough about court to know that the life of a King isn’t nearly as glamorous as the tales would make it out to be. His mother had told him stories about the Kings and Sanctums of old – legendary knights working together, the earthly and the mystic protecting their borders from strange dangers. In those days, she’d told him, the King and the Sorcerer Supreme were the greatest of shield-brothers. There was an age-old legend that the first Queen of Veston had been the Sorcerer Supreme at the same time, and her two sons had taken up the mantles when she passed away. One had become King, one had become Sorcerer Supreme. The two were linked, and as long as they were, the safety of Veston was guaranteed.

Just a shame that the current King and Sorcerer Supreme have a hard time standing each other. Tony might have believed a little more in fairy-tales, hadn’t he heard his father rage about the Ancient One for hours.

‘’You make it sound nobler than it is,’’ he says, putting down his sword. He brushes his fingers over the handle before looking up at Strange. ‘’I don’t feel like a leader. I prefer being down here. The court - it makes me itch. I don’t like the games and hypocrisy, Master Strange.’’

There is a moment of silence in which Tony feels mostly defeated. Strange’s eyes are intent, burning on his skin. His entire being screams magic, and Tony can only stand there and stare. Strange is so distant in so many ways, and yet he’s right here. Is he disappointed? He will hardly be the first one, but the thought still bothers him.

‘’I’ve been told,’’ Strange says, oddly comforting, ‘’that no one who wants to be a leader is ever a good one.’’

‘’That doesn’t immediately mean that everyone who doesn’t want to be one will be any better at it.’’

Strange huffs out a laugh. Tony feels pleased to have surprised him - the crinkles in the corner of Stephen’s eyes make him look far less solemn. ‘’That is right,’’ he concedes. ‘’Though I have a feeling that you won’t be so bad, my prince.’’

Tony shrugs but can’t help the smile that stretches out on his face. ‘’Maybe you’re not so bad either,’’ he hums, and turns back to his forge. ‘’You have to know that doesn’t mean I’ll make finding me any easier on you. These threats are a joke and I don’t need a guard. Even less so, a sorcerer.’’

‘’As I told you before, I am here on orders of the king. As long as he thinks I need to be here, I will. Until that time, I will try to protect you in any capacity I can. It is my sworn duty, my prince.’’

The sorcerer’s usual gravity and earnestness have returned fully, the teasing notes of his voice gone. Tony sits by the heat of his forge. The threats are nothing - the Palace is safe for him. He has Rhodey and the Knights of Virtue protecting him, if anything should go wrong. Strange is doing nothing more than wasting his time.

Still. If he wants to stay so badly, who’s Tony to deny him?

‘’Want to see how a sword is made?’’ he just says lightly, and starts.


	3. Blue / I

Stephen sits on his knees, breathing in and out slowly, trying to focus his mind. The Palace has a small chamber for the Masters who spend the majority of their time at court: for now, there’s no one but Stephen and his old teacher.

The Ancient One sits opposite him. She stares at him plainly and unapologetically. It would be uncomfortable to anyone else, to be under such intense scrutiny. It’s nothing that Stephen hasn’t gotten used to in the six years spent learning the Aspect of Time under her.

‘’Have you found any perpetrator yet?’’ she asks, her voice deepening. ‘’It has been two months, Master Strange.’’

It’s a title he has slowly become familiar with. _Master Strange_ \- it’s all anyone calls him. All his friends from Kamar-Taj are either still learning to become Master of their chosen Aspect or are studying in the Sanctum, with little time to spare for him. 

‘’There have been no attacks,’’ Stephen answers, maintaining his steady breathing. ‘’I’ve made allies out of the Knights of Virtue, in as far as I was able to. One of them, in particular, is close to the prince. If anything were to happen, I’d be the first to know.’’

‘’And the Knights of Vice?’’ she asks.

The Knights of Vice are the spymasters of Veston - apt fighters but not as straightforward as the Knights of Virtue are. To protect their identity, their status as Knights are secret, usually. They hide among the nobles and gather their information. 

‘’Have not come forward yet, and the King sees no reason for me to know their names,’’ he says.

The Ancient One smiles. ‘’But you have your suspicions.’’

Of course Stephen has his suspicions, but that’s all they are. The Knights of Vice, for all they don’t get a place in the spotlight, are highly trained and dangerous individuals. It influences how they hold themselves, but they also know how to hide. However, admitting to have an idea as to who the Knights are is a dangerous game. It’s not meant for a common Master to be aware of their identities, though he is certain that the Ancient One knows. 

‘’I am positive I have no idea,’’ he says airily. If there’s one thing he has learnt in his two months in court, it’s that it’s best to play dumb. 

‘’And prince Anthony?’’ she asks, clearly done with that subject. ‘’Considering King Howard is still prolonging your stay here, you must have made some progress in that regard.’’

Prince Anthony. That’s a complicated matter.

‘’I think he enjoys my company,’’ he says, though he sounds more hesitant than he did at first. ‘’But he also likes making this a cat-and-mouse game. If I find him, he’ll sit by me and tell me stories, or ask me questions. He seems to make it his day-time job to make sure I don’t find him, however.’’

‘’Is that why you are learning Space?’’ the Ancient One asks, leaning forward in amusement. ‘’Don’t tell me the prince is too difficult a man for you, Stephen.’’

‘’Space will be useful for me to find the prince, yes,’’ he admits, ‘’but I wouldn’t have done it if not for what you said. You said I’d lose more than just green. If I Master Space, I will have a tremendous advantage in many other respects as well. Time and Space is a good combination.’’

He doesn’t think about losing blue, as well. Never seeing the sky again. He’d had a lot of time to get used to not seeing green anymore. He’d watched the trees, the day before his Test. He’d made his peace with never being able to see green ever again, as his Mastery became too great. After all, losing a single colour is a small price for becoming Master of Time. Green had never been his favourite colour.

He likes blue. He hadn’t thought he’d lose it, before. He had wanted to become Master of Power, in his youth - before he’d known that Time was a choice that fit him better. Mastering Space is useful, but it’s a thought that is relatively young to him. Blue is a colour he had not considered he would ever lose.

Except he will, if all goes according to plan. For good reasons, but there’s a feeling of melancholy at the thought that he hadn’t felt with green. It’s an odd thing to know he may never see the colour of his own eyes in the mirror anymore. To look up at the sky and the forests, and to see only a calm grey sea. One colour is a minor price, but two colours - well. It’s still worth it, but it’ll take some getting used to.

‘’You would have done it anyway,’’ the Ancient One tells him, getting up from where she’s sitting. ‘’I merely made you consider the idea before you would have naturally. I will have to schedule a Test for you, I presume. If your duties here do not keep you, of course.’’

‘’It will be years before I am ready for another Test.’’ Stephen frowns as he rises as well. It took him six years to become a Master of Time - there is no need to even discuss a Test yet.

She just stands still, looking through the window. He joins her, peering at the city that stretches out underneath their feet. Veston’s capital is Ireningas, and just beyond its walls is the Sanctum. He can’t see it from here, but he knows that the majestic building stands there, ready to guard the realm.

Trees grow past the walls of the city, lively and rustling in the wind. To Stephen, they are one blur of grey, just like the walls. ‘’I have protected this city and this realm for all my years,’’ the Ancient One says in an oddly mournful tone. ‘’A thing to remember, Stephen, is why we need the Mystic Arts. Why we lose our colours for its defence. Do you still remember that?’’

‘’Because it’s our duty to protect our home,’’ he says. ‘’The colours we see don’t define us, but our magic does.’’

She takes a deep breath. ‘’Many places can be a home,’’ she murmurs. ‘’Do you remember your home? Do you remember your parents, I wonder? Six years you have studied Time under me, and never have you mentioned anything but your desire to go to the Sanctum. You think your skill in the Mystic Arts comes from your intelligence and your eagerness to learn. Your drive to succeed.’’

‘’Doesn’t it?’’

She shakes her head. ‘’Your fear of failure is precisely what keeps you from greatness. You have studied Time and you know its value. Don’t let it pass you by, Stephen. You are meant for a great many things, but the only way you will reach your destination is to not fight the current. Some things cannot be explained - some things are not fair. The Mystic Arts is only one of many ways to lead a life.’’

‘’Mine,’’ Stephen insists. 

The city still lives on beneath their feet. ‘’Perhaps,’’ she says, and turns back. ‘’I need to return to the Sanctum. I may need to return to Kamar-Taj for a while. The students require as much attention as always.’’

Kamar-Taj is a few hours away by horse, but there’s always a Master of Space ready to allow the Ancient One to go where she needs to. Usually, this is Wong, a man who has taught Stephen more than once and who doesn’t seem to be able to appreciate a joke.

And has a questionable music taste, but that’s another matter entirely.

Stephen wants to ask her a great many things but watches her walk away instead. She will not tell him anything that she doesn’t want him to know. There is a sense of purpose to everything the Ancient One does, and he exhales as he watches Ireningas. As well as he can sense that there is something that he needs to know, he can’t figure out what.

He should find prince Anthony again, just to make sure everything is alright. With maybe a small detour to the kitchen - he hasn’t had breakfast yet.

~*~

Tony leans over the documents, browsing past several pages. The language of Skida is close enough to their own, but the very idea of reading the trade agreements is beyond him right now. He hasn’t been sleeping too well, the past few days, and it has exhausted him. 

Besides, the Treasurer is far better off handling matters like these. Tony has been taught Skidian and is up to date with all the matters, and technically, he is responsible for overseeing these reports are handled correctly. All of that, however, doesn’t mean that Pepper isn’t twice as competent when it comes to finding the minor mistakes and discrepancies in these documents. 

He wishes he was in his forge, right now. Master Strange joins him more often than not, for his protection. He’s remarkably good company, even if all he does is sit there and read his books. Strange is witty and clever, though, and he teases with such a blank face that it took Tony a while to realize that he wasn’t being serious all the time. 

Shuffling the papers, he has trouble stifling a yawn. He scrawls his signature at the bottom and goes on to the next. There’s documents sent from the ambassador, Sir Killian, from Menteri in the south. Just as he wants to shuffle them closer, he freezes.

_Your life is forfeit._

The piece of paper is the same as the others, but empty except for those words. He takes a deep breath, looking around the room. There’s only one door to the hallways; the curtains move with the wind coming in from the opened window. He shudders, taking the yellowed paper and gripping it tightly. 

He’s safe here. There’s a guard in front of his door - Knight Happy, one of his Knights of Virtue. He knows a Knight of Vice has been appointed to watch him from afar ever since the threats first started - Romanoff, he thinks, though she does a good job at hiding.

There’s never been a threat as near as his desk, however. There hasn’t been a threat since they appointed Strange to him. He figured the presence of a Master had scared them off, if there had even been a real danger to his person. He looks at the paper - there’s nothing but those words. He should inform someone. The Knights of Vice will know if there’s poison if he smells the paper, or if there’s other information.

He can’t stop himself from clenching the paper even harder.

A knock on the door starts him, and the piece of paper wrinkles beneath his hands. ‘’Prince Anthony?’’ Strange’s voice comes from the other. ‘’May I enter?’’

The sorcerer usually isn’t so kind as to let him know he’ll come in. Happy must have insisted. Tony closes his eyes. ‘’Come in,’’ he says weakly, pushing the paper underneath the pile. He hasn’t decided what to do, yet. If he ignores the threat, maybe it’ll go away by itself.

The door swings open. Strange enters, his smile fading away as he looks at Tony. ‘’Is something the matter, my prince?’’ he asks, as polite as ever. He folds his hands before him.

Maybe he should tell Strange. His entire reason for being here is to protect Tony, after all. And yet, it’s not as if Tony doesn’t know that no one ever asked Strange if he wanted to be here. The King had commanded and the sorcerer had complied, and that’s all there is to it. He has spoken with him, over the course of two months - he knows very well that Strange longs to be in the Sanctum.

‘’Just tired,’’ he says. It’s not even a lie - the nightmares make sure of that.

Strange doesn’t look convinced. ‘’You’ve been tired a lot lately,’’ he says, tilting his head. ‘’Perhaps you should visit the healers. Just to be certain.’’

‘’Already have,’’ Tony says. Rhodey had made him, though he doesn’t say that part out loud. There is the healthy worry of a friend and then there’s the obsessive need to make sure the heir to the throne is fine, and Rhodey has a bit of both. 

Point is, Tony had taken care of himself. He’d gone to the healers and they hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it’s the stress, he thinks; the threats on his life hadn’t concerned him overly much, but maybe it had gotten to him more than he thought. Besides that, Howard has been very busy with renewing their alliances, resulting in more paperwork for Tony to look over. It could be just the stress.

‘’Perhaps you need a holiday,’’ Strange says thoughtfully. ‘’How long have you been cooped up here, my prince?’’

Tony groans and leans back in his chair. ‘’Long enough. Say, you don’t have a certain magic trick to share with me that’d help me get done with all of this faster, right?’’

The sorcerer comes to stand beside him, regarding the papers. Tony tenses up, hoping Strange won’t find the threat that lies below the stack. Instead, Strange makes an odd-looking gesture with his hands; his fingers spread apart in a way Tony is sure he couldn’t imitate as they glow an eerie green.

The papers rustle with the magic as they overturn and Tony’s signature is scrawled out where it’s supposed to be on all of them. Just before the threat is visible, the stack of paper falls back onto the desk. He grabs them, looking at the signature he never put there.

He has never seen magic, he realizes. He has walked among sorcerers all his life, and never has he seen any of them use magic.

‘’That’s amazing,’’ he says, looking them over. He wouldn’t be able to tell he hadn’t done that signature himself if he hadn’t known. ‘’How did you do that?’’

‘’It’s a relatively easy spell,’’ Strange says, tucking his hands back into his sleeves. ‘’I flashed your papers forward in the future, when you’d have done them. And now you don’t have to.’’

‘’Doesn’t that create a paradox of some kind?’’ Tony asks, frowning. ‘’I’ve never done them, so how could I do them in the future?’’

‘’The Aspect of Time is a tricky thing, yes, especially in the way of paradoxes. However, I’ve found that Time rarely cares about such pesky things. If I started playing around with other things, I might create a rift that will destroy the world as we know it, so we are advised to be very careful about interfering. In other words - yes, a paradox is created, but it’s such a tiny one that the flow of Time will take care of it. Nothing to worry about.’’

‘’I’ll need you here next time I do this,’’ Tony says, trying to ignore the comment about a world-ending rift. Having a sorcerer around who’d duplicate his signature in such a way will come in handy.

Strange smiles faintly. ‘’I doubt it, my prince. I’m certainly hoping someone else will look over those papers before you drop them off somewhere. You may have signed them, but you haven’t read them.’’

‘’Details,’’ Tony waves away. ‘’Pepper will manage everything, I’m sure. And whack me over my head for not doing my work properly, but that’s nothing I’m not used to.’’

Strange comes to stand beside him. His cloak rustles next to Tony’s ear, the green threads standing out starkly against the red. He looks over the papers, amused as he regards his own handiwork. ‘’Trading deals with Menteri, is it? Well, aren’t we all glad I signed those for you? I didn’t think we had much of a working relationship when it comes to the Menteri.’’

‘’Obi thought it’d be a good idea, and it’s been a few months in the works now,’’ Tony says. ‘’You’re looking at state secrets, you know. I don’t know if I should let you.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try to stop me, my prince,’’ the sorcerer says casually, a hint of mirth in his voice. ‘’Obi? Obadiah Stane? I thought he wasn’t overly fond of the Menteri, or their current Mantri, for that matter.’’

‘’Maybe not personally, but they have lots of stuff we don’t have,’’ Tony points out. ‘’It’s a solid idea, I think. Though I’m not sure why the Mantri goes along with the trade. I don’t think we’re offering anything they can’t get elsewhere.’’

Strange clicks his tongue. ‘’Indeed. Perhaps the esteemed Mantri sees the advantages of an alliance between Menteri and Veston. The only realm to remain hostile to us is Skoltia, at this rate. Unless Stane has plans to befriend them, as well.’’

‘’I don’t think we can without offending Skida,’’ Tony says, leaning forward on his desk. Strange is awfully close - he smells like cinnamon and dust, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. Tony takes a deep breath and doesn’t know why his heartbeat speeds up.

A low hum comes from the sorcerer. ‘’King Nicholas is supposed to be a deviously clever man. We’re better off allied with him than with the Red Smith.’’

Internally, Tony agrees. Skoltia and Skida have a difficult relationship, all things considered. Years ago, Skoltia was a part of Skida, all under the leadership of a King, just like Veston. But a part of Skida had rebelled against their way of doing things. They had come from a part of the realm called the Alphard Steppe and made their own country: Skoltia. To this day, the two nations have declared themselves to be at war, though surprisingly little fighting happens. To Tony’s knowledge, at least. King Howard is good friends with King Nicholas, however, though everyone else calls the man ‘the Fury’ under their breath.

The Red Smith leads Skoltia, a slowly growing country. To be friends with one realm means to be enemies of the other; it is a consequence that Veston hasn’t escaped. And while the Red Smith promises a lot of things, Tony doesn’t think he has ever delivered. As a prince, however, he can’t bad-mouth one realm, even if they are currently on opposing sides. If, in the distant future, Skoltia becomes their ally, he can’t have been heard saying bad things.

‘’At least Menteri won’t ally itself with Skoltia,’’ Tony says neutrally. The Mantri should be well aware that befriending Skoltia means losing the newfound alliance with Veston and Skida.

‘’I think I missed some papers,’’ Strange frowns and grabs at something at the lower end of the pile. Tony sits upright.

‘’Don’t -’’ he says, but Strange has already seen the threat. His already pale face loses some of its colour, and it’s the only sign that he is shaken. His eyes linger on the words, and Tony sits very still.

‘’Were you trying to hide this from me?’’ the sorcerer demands. Tony stands upright. He is still far too close, but there is no stopping this now.

It’s a shame. He was just enjoying his conversation with Strange. ‘’I was going to go to the Knights of Vice first,’’ he says, though he hadn’t completely made up his mind yet. ‘’You’re not here to question me, Master Strange.’’

‘’No, I’m here to guard you, which you make exceedingly hard for me, my prince,’’ Strange says. ‘’This is a threat. There is no doubt about it. And someone got close enough to sneak this into your personal rooms.’’

‘’It’s not anything deadly,’’ he protests. ‘’It’s a warning. It’s to scare me. Otherwise they would have sent something dangerous. They’re not _doing_ anything to me.’’

‘’It’s an omen,’’ Strange says, leaning forward. ‘’They want to scare you before they make their move. And your father, presumably.’’

‘’How would he be scared if I don’t tell him anything?’’ Tony challenges.

Strange leans back, oddly weary. It also makes him look less like a mysterious Master; he looks human, angling against Tony’s desk like this. ‘’Am I to assume you’ve received threats before that you didn’t tell anyone else about?’’ he asks in a lower tone. ‘’Don’t even answer that - I can guess. Prince Anthony, you don’t seem to understand that this is more than your life in the balance. This is a power play.’’

‘’You think I don’t know that?’’ Tony snaps, and grabs the paper from Strange. The use of his first name is new - he doesn’t think Strange has ever called him anything but ‘my prince’. It sounds off, somehow. ‘’This only becomes a power play if I let it be one. As long as Howard doesn’t know, nothing is going on. This is all just an attempt to scare him.’’

‘’You’re the heir,’’ Strange says. ‘’A threat on you is a threat to the entire realm. The Sanctum is here to protect Veston, my prince. You know I’m going to tell the King, don’t you? I’ll have to consult with Knight Rhodes to see to an upgrade to your security. My presence clearly isn’t enough to scare them off. In the meanwhile, you should stay here.’’

Tony crosses his arms. ‘’Why?’’ he demands.

A small smile plays on Strange’s lips. ‘’I could stop Time around you,’’ he says, ‘’but I’d rather you just listen to me, for once. We don’t know who brought in this note. Something or someone might be compromised. Will you listen to me?’’

Tony doesn’t relish being frozen in Time while Strange goes on a quest to see to his safety. He huffs. ‘’Yes,’’ he just says. He may just not listen, but at least he’ll avoid the Mystic Arts.

Strange looks at him for a long moment and takes the threat back from Tony’s hands. ‘’I will come back as soon as I can,’’ he says, and he almost sounds gentle. With a swirl of his cloak, he disappears, leaving Tony alone with his trading agreements and too many thoughts.

~*~

‘’You are telling me,’’ the King starts, his brow furrowed in anger, ‘’that the threats to my son are coming closer than ever? And neither of you managed to stop this in any way or shape?’’

Stephen stands next to Knight Rhodes, neither of them bowing down to Howard Stark’s ire. He can respect that about the Knight; he is familiar enough with the royal family that he simply isn’t impressed by their titles anymore. Especially since he became such close friends with the prince.

‘’To be fair, my King,’’ Rhodes starts, ‘’this isn’t our job. Master Strange and I are here for physical dangers to the prince’s well-being. The Knights of Vice are responsible for the paperwork and spying.’’

Stephen stays silent, though he internally agrees. He is here to guard the prince, but this is beyond his job. Though it’s not beyond the dangers, it seems.

The King huffs. ‘’I’ve spoken to them already, and I’ve been informed that everything was looked at before a maid brought the papers to Anthony. There is a threat on my son’s life and on the safety of this kingdom, and I will not see my only child die for it.’’

There’s almost something like fatherly love in that sentence, hadn’t the King looked so stern while speaking. Stephen can’t voice the thought he wants to - that there may be a traitor within the Knights of Vice, if they’d missed this. Either that, or someone has been lousy. Both are bad options.

‘’We can upgrade security around the prince’s room, but I don’t know what measures we can take that haven’t already been taken,’’ Rhodes says. ‘’Apart from confining prince Anthony to his rooms, there’s little we can do. And I’m sure you know that something like that is never going to work, my King.’’

‘’Anthony will be going on a little vacation,’’ the King says, standing up. ‘’Until I can deal with this threat.’’

He must be equally aware of the situation. Perhaps he wants to investigate the Knights of Vice, or another reason that the threat got through. ‘’With a guard?’’ Rhodes asks, a pensive expression on his face. Stephen can’t imagine the things Rhodes has to handle for a prince to go on a trip. Especially since he now knows that Anthony will not let himself be handled, not even by his friends.

‘’A handful of Knights should do the trick. Virtue and Vice, both. And Master Strange will be joining you too, of course. I shouldn’t hope our Master of Time will have been here all for naught. You will leave in the morning with an assembly of my choosing, Knight Rhodes.’’

‘’To where?’’ Stephen can’t help but ask.

If the King notices the lack of his use of a title, he doesn’t say. Not that he ever looks at Stephen with anything but sound disapproval.

‘’To the Sanctum, Master Strange.’’

~*~

If there is anything that Tony is used to by now, it’s the sight of disappointment on someone’s face. He’d thought he’d see it when Rhodey or Strange found him, not quite where they’d left him - he’s sitting in the armoury, looking over his creations.

Strange, when he enters, looks neither disappointed nor surprised. There’s an air of weary acceptance about him, though a twitch in his lips betrays some faint amusement.

‘’Rhodes is looking for you in your personal chambers,’’ is the first thing the sorcerer says. ‘’I thought I might find you here before him.’’

‘’What did my father have to say?’’ Tony asks, looking back to his swords. There’s a few spread out before him - his favourites. There’s too many of them, maybe. Swords should not remain in their workshops forever. Obi usually took them, though he hadn’t had the time to visit in a while now. ‘’Were there any Knights of Vice who made a mistake?’’

‘’Your father wants you to come to the Sanctum for a short time,’’ Strange says. ‘’I believe it’s a good idea. I already said you might be in need of a holiday, though I must confess, I hadn’t believed you’d get one so shortly. A small group will leave before sunrise, including Knight Rhodes and I.’’

Tony nods slowly. Obi would think it’s running away, probably, but maybe it’s not the worst idea. The Palace clearly has been infiltrated in one way or another, and he can’t be here to figure it out. He’ll only be in the way. Besides, he’s never been to the Sanctum, despite it being so close to Ireningas. He is curious.

‘’I understand,’’ he says, and runs his finger over the green emerald in the hilt of one of his swords. It glitters in the light of the candles.

‘’It’s a beautiful sword,’’ Strange notes, as he comes to stand beside him. ‘’What kind of diamond is that? I’ve never seen a silver one like this.’’

Tony laughs a little. ‘’It’s green,’’ he says. ‘’An emerald. You wouldn’t be able to see its colour.’’

He’s not seen Strange flush before, but he’s treated to the sight now. ‘’I forget, sometimes,’’ the sorcerer mutters. 

‘’You still have a lot of other colours to appreciate,’’ Tony tells him in good humour. ‘’But here, hold it. The blade is a bit too long and narrow for my tastes, but it may be better in your hands.’’

Strange takes it, his face blank as he looks over the sword. It’s one of Tony’s more ornate designs, tiny decorations around the emerald giving it a sort of otherworldly air. It fits Strange for more than one reason, and the sorcerer grips it like a man born to wield it.

‘’It’s a good weight,’’ he comments. It’s clear that it’s not the first time he’s held a sword, the way his body relaxes and his hand clenches around the hilt. Strange makes a quick and intricate movement. ‘’You’re a wonderfully skilled smith, my prince. I’m sure that whoever will have the pleasure of owning this sword will be unrivalled in combat.’’

‘’It’s yours,’’ Tony says quickly, before Strange can give it back to him. ‘’It’s - it fits you. I don’t really need to sell it for the money, you know? I’d rather give it to someone who appreciates it and knows how to use it. So, well - it’s yours. If you want it.’’

There’s a second of silence. Strange runs his fingers over the hilt, just like Tony did a few moments before. The look on his face is tenderly soft, and Tony remembers that sorcerers don’t own a lot of stuff. Perhaps this is the first gift that Strange has ever received.

‘’Thank you,’’ the Master says. ‘’And I do mean it. It’s a beautiful sword. I’ll take care of it.’’

Tony smiles at him. ‘’That’s all I wanted,’’ he says sincerely, and picks up another sword. It fits better in his hand - the hilt is less decorated but flashier in colour, as the red and gold gleam. Gold is the colour of his family, but he likes the combination with the red. It’s a personal touch. ‘’I’ll take this one for myself, I think.’’

Strange laughs, and in that moment, it doesn’t feel like much is wrong at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All names in this fic are actually based on something. I have an entire document outlining the blends I made and the etymology of certain stuff, because it's so much I'd forget otherwise :)


	4. Blue / II

There is an odd mix of excitement and anxiety warring in Stephen’s mind. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to the Sanctum; he’s been waiting for this since he started training, and then the two months he’s spent in court. The Sanctum is virtually positioned just outside Ireningas and yet Stephen hasn’t been inside yet.

It just feels like something of a dismissal. Like the prince isn’t safe enough with Stephen guarding him - he needs to be surrounded by all the Masters they have. And Stephen won’t be anything special. 

Besides, he hasn’t finished his mission yet. The threats need to go away, and only then he’ll be allowed to go to the Sanctum. Either that, or he’ll be dismissed by the King - and there’s no saying he’ll ever get to go to the Sanctum if that happens. 

Obadiah Stane stands next to them, a hand clasped on prince Anthony’s shoulder. It’s so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t even come up yet. Stephen is used to rising early; it is pretty much a prerequisite for becoming a Master. The prince just looks tired, though, with dark and deep rings underneath his eyes and his stance hunched. Stephen wonders how much he slept.

‘’You’ll be back home soon enough again, my boy,’’ Stane says. His voice is low and quiet enough that Stephen is quite sure he isn’t meant to hear any of it. ‘’If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be leaving at all.’’

The prince just stands there, only occasionally nodding to show that he’s listening. His right hand rests on the golden handle of his sword. Stephen thinks back of his own sword, safely wrapped and packed in his small bag. It makes up most of his belongings, anyway.

‘’We need to leave,’’ Rhodes says, looking towards where the sun will be up soon. ‘’People will be up and about soon.’’

‘’I’ll see you soon, Obi,’’ Anthony says, sending a wry smile to the King’s right hand as he mounts his horse. ‘’This farewell party is really unnecessary, you know.’’

‘’How could I send off my favourite prince without saying goodbye?’’ the man says, and lets go off Anthony. ‘’Be safe, Tony.’’

With that, the entourage leaves. It’s not just Stephen and Rhodes who are guiding their prince to the Sanctum today - one more Knight of Virtue has joined them for their trip, as well as two Knights of Vice. The Knight of Virtue is a broad man with a penchant for looking all worried and responsible, Steve Rogers, who Stephen has come across a few times already.

The Knights of Vice are less obvious in their attires. The man, Clint Barton, only carries a bow with him. He seems good-humoured, mostly, smiling easily at anyone. There’s the hint of a threat beneath that witty attitude, however, that is belied by his easy-going nature. His partner is Natasha Romanoff, who hasn’t said much yet. 

Prince Anthony rides in the middle with Rhodes, while Romanoff protects the back with Rogers. That leaves Stephen to ride with Barton at the front. That’s something of a relief - he thinks it’ll be easier for conversation.

Galloping through the city isn’t easy, at first. The Palace is in the middle of some narrow streets leading up to the market. Once they get past the centre, the roads get broader but also more uneven. 

‘’Must be a fun trip for you,’’ Barton says out of the blue. ‘’Going back to the Sanctum. You’ve been in the Palace for two months now, right?’’

There is no doubt that Barton knows exactly how long Stephen has been there. As a Knight of Vice, spying is the first priority. Still, Stephen can appreciate them pretending Barton doesn’t know everything about his first two months in Ireningas. 

Though Barton seems to have failed to realize that Stephen came straight from Kamar-Taj. ‘’I have never been to the Sanctum,’’ he says.

Barton frowns. ‘’You’re a Master,’’ the spy points out. ‘’Didn’t you live there?’’

‘’You weren’t there, I think,’’ Stephen says, though he can’t be sure. He hardly remembers the nobles that attended his promotion to Mastery; he only had eyes for the people he belongs to, the other sorcerers. ‘’I became a Master and was stationed here immediately after. I lived in Kamar-Taj, like all apprentices.’’

‘’I wasn’t at court, two months ago,’’ Barton says, and he sounds vaguely disapproving. Of what, Stephen can’t say. ‘’I thought you were a bit on the young side, but I didn’t know they brought in the first apprentice they could find.’’

That prickles a bit. ‘’Hardly. I assure you, I am qualified enough for this task. The Ancient One never does anything without a reason.’’

That, for some reason, solicits a laugh from Barton. ‘’Oh, believe me, I know that. Never says straight out what she means, either.’’

‘’You know her?’’ Stephen asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. It’s not as if the Ancient One is the mysterious figure everyone makes her out to be, but she prefers staying in the Sanctum or Kamar-Taj. Not many but the highest-ranking nobles know her personally, and even less know her as well to make such statements.

Barton grins. ‘’I was apprenticed to her, once. Decided I didn’t want to lose my colours and that I preferred archery anyway. She’s the one who made me a Knight of Vice, in the end. So yeah, I know her.’’

The spy looks like he’s only a few years older than Stephen. ‘’You’re a sorcerer?’’ he asks.

‘’Not anymore, I’m not. And I like it better that way. Look, here, this turn to the left. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Let me tell you, they should’ve put that Sanctum right next to the Palace, or given us a Master of Space to teleport us over. That would’ve been really helpful.’’

Stephen frowns but doesn’t say anything. The Sanctum is already looming before them, grand and majestic. Whereas the Palace is all stature and loftiness, the Sanctum is wholly another kind of imposing. Soft light emanates from the windows, barely there but for those who look for it. The east wing is part of the wall that surrounds Ireningas, part of the city but still beyond it.

This is the place Stephen has worked his entire life to be, and now he’s almost here, he doesn’t know what to do. He won’t be appointed a room or be shown the way. He’s one of the Masters, but he’s still something else, now. Part of the Prince’s envoy, and nothing more.

When Rhodes comes forward to discuss something with Barton, Stephen falls back to ride next to the prince. Anthony still seems tired, but he greets him with a small smile. 

‘’Morning, Master Strange,’’ he says. 

‘’My prince,’’ Stephen answers, inclining his head. 

The prince pulls a face. ‘’We’re on holiday, sort of. I know the titles are necessary in the castle, but just call me Tony. You’ve been hanging around me for two months, there’s no need to be so formal when there’s no one to berate you for doing otherwise. Well, except maybe our Knights of Vice, but what can they do, huh?’’

Tony. The name burns on his tongue, but he just gives a short nod. ‘’Did you know that Knight Barton used to be a sorcerer?’’ he asks instead.

Tony shrugs. ‘’Yeah, he told me once. I think he wanted to be a Master of Mind until he decided that it wasn’t the path for him. I guess it’s hard to imagine for you, someone deciding not to become a Master?’’

It is. Becoming a Master is all Stephen has longed for since he was old enough to know what he was and what he could be. He hadn’t even cared what kind of Master he’d become, at the start - a Master of Power, maybe, shaking Earth to its core with his spells. Or a Master of Reality, making others see what he sees. 

‘’I do love the Mystic Arts,’’ he says, tilting his head. ‘’I’ve been studying. Look at this.’’

With a tingling in his fingers, he makes a gentle movement towards one of the stones towards the ground. It disappears, and plops into existence in his hand again. 

‘’That’s not Time magic,’’ Tony says, eyeing him dubiously. ‘’I thought you were a Master of Time.’’

‘’I am. However, that doesn’t mean I’m unable to use other Aspects as well. This is Space. As long as I don’t do something too fundamentally difficult that will count as a Test, I won’t gain Mastery.’’

He does mean to gain Mastery, though, even if he doesn’t mean to tell that to the prince. It’ll take a while, but Stephen is patient. And in the meanwhile, he can do the smaller things that will help him improve.

‘’I don’t think I’d want to lose blue,’’ Tony says thoughtfully, looking at him in a way that makes Stephen feel closely examined. ‘’The colour of the sky, the sea. I mean, I wouldn’t be a fan of green, either. Maybe I’d just lose orange. The Masters of Soul surely made the right choice.’’

Stephen frowns. ‘’You’re aware that there are no Masters of Soul, aren’t you?’’ he asks. ‘’Soul has never been Mastered before. No one knows how.’’

‘’No one?’’ the prince exclaims. ‘’I thought - I was under the impression that it was just very hard. That there weren’t a lot of Masters of Soul. There are none?’’

The Sanctum keeps many things to itself, so perhaps Stephen shouldn’t be too surprised at Tony’s lack of knowledge. There are many things that aren’t available to outsiders, but he’d thought that the prince would know that tidbit of information.

‘’None,’’ he says. ‘’Soul is the odd one out, for the Aspects. There are numerous books written on the subject of how to train your grip on Soul and what it would mean to achieve Mastery. Some think that Soul is too dangerous to teach, and touching it for a single instant will result in immediate Mastery. That Soul can’t be taught in small bits - it’s too complicated a concept. I’ve always been told that Soul means control over life, in a certain way. It can be a dark Aspect in the wrong hands. All Aspects can be, obviously, but Soul even more so. Perhaps it’s for the best no one ever Mastered it.’’

Tony looks intrigued, but before he can say anything, they’ve reached the walls of Ireningas. ‘’We’re here,’’ Rhodes says, looking back to them. 

It takes a few minutes for them to back around to the entrance. The sun is just rising, but a few Masters are out in the gardens already, tending to the trees and plants. They barely look up at their arrival. It’s a long path towards a stairways, which ends at the door opening. 

Someone who Stephen hasn’t seen in a long while stands waiting for them, his hands hidden behind his back.

‘’Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum, my prince,’’ Karl Mordo says, his expression one of complete neutrality and professionalism. ‘’We hope you enjoy your stay. The Ancient One isn’t here to welcome you, currently, as she is teaching in Kamar-Taj, but I’ll be here to answer all your questions. My name is Karl Mordo, Master of Power. I’ll guide you to your rooms shortly, but first, you might like some breakfast?’’

‘’Thank you, Master Mordo,’’ Tony says, and Stephen can see him straighten up, perhaps in an attempt to radiate an air of royalty. ‘’I’d enjoy that very much.’’

Mordo nods and relaxes his stance a bit - it’s enough for Stephen to grin broadly at him as he dismounts. ‘’Mordo,’’ he says, unable to contain his enthusiasm. Mordo was a couple of years older than him, but they’d studied together in Kamar-Taj often. He taught Stephen a lot of things, both related to the Mystic Arts and to other, more personal things.

‘’Strange,’’ Mordo returns, smiling equally, and goes in for a hug. Stephen doesn’t think of himself as an affectionate person, but it’s different with Mordo. 

Mordo holds him for a long moment before pulling away, though his hands remain on Stephen’s shoulders as he is regarded by his old friend. ‘’Here I thought you’d come to join us when you became a Master,’’ Mordo proclaims. ‘’Have you yet abandoned your plans of joining the Sanctum, my friend?’’

‘’Something else came up,’’ Stephen says, unnervingly aware of the eyes on him. ‘’How have you been?’’

‘’We’ll discuss it later,’’ Mordo promises. ‘’Come, Stephen. There’s food waiting for the prince and the rest of your group in the dining hall.’’

The first steps into the Sanctum are unlike what Stephen expected when he was younger. There is no group of Masters, ready to welcome him into his new home; there’s no glorious moment where he realized that he’s finally achieved Mastery and has arrived where he’s supposed to be. 

Instead, he has to wait for a few moments to enter to let through some other Masters and allow Tony to go first, followed by Rhodes and Romanoff. Barton comes after him, but the archer is clearly not interested in the Sanctum and almost runs past him to get to the food. Rogers smiles at him with a weary apology and mutters something inaudible before he starts walking next to their prince.

Stephen is the last in line of their company, and he takes the opportunity to slow down and watch the inside of the Sanctum. Large wooden stairs are in the middle of the hall, and some relics are displayed on the walls. The entire place feels like it’s a bigger and more mysterious version of Kamar-Taj; in that regard, it feels rather familiar.

He keeps his eye on the rest of the group, making sure he doesn’t lose sight of them. It would be embarrassing to get lost in the Sanctum as a Master. He keeps a steady pace, still taking in the Sanctum, trying to remember everything he sees.

He’s also last to reach the dining hall. It’s not busy at the moment, with plenty of tables left empty. Most of the Masters will be up and about already, at the dawn of day. One of the tables is filled with food, and that’s where Mordo sits them down. He also joins them, sitting opposite Stephen; apparently, he doesn’t have anything to do but guide them for now.

‘’You’re welcome to have anything you wish for,’’ Mordo first declares, his eyes flitting to Stephen for a mere second. ‘’We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for your coming, but the Sanctum has many provisions. Most of the fruit and vegetables are home-grown. All else comes from a farm a few miles away from the capital.’’

‘’That’s fine,’’ Tony says, nodding in appreciation. ‘’I know this came out of the blue for you, and I’m sorry about that.’’

‘’Don’t be,’’ Mordo waves it away. ‘’We have plenty of food to entertain some guests - and especially you, my prince. Besides, you brought Stephen with you. I haven’t seen him in nearly two years.’’

‘’One and a half,’’ Stephen corrects. ‘’And only because you decided you’d rather get your Mastery at that moment than wait for the other apprentices to catch up.’’

‘’Coming from the youngest Master in a century,’’ Mordo says, turning back to the prince. ‘’As I was saying, my prince, we’re delighted to have you at the Sanctum. I hope breakfast will be to your liking.’’

‘’It’s so much,’’ Rogers mutters beside Stephen, seemingly lost in the choices.

As the Knights and Tony dig into the food, Stephen turns back to Mordo. ‘’How have things been in the Sanctum?’’ he asks. ‘’I thought I’d join you sooner, but the Ancient One - well, she turned out to have other plans for me.’’

‘’Are you honestly surprised by that woman pulling the rug out from under you anymore?’’ Mordo chuckles. ‘’We had already cleared out a room for you the moment we heard your Test was planned. It’s a shame you’re unable to use it, still. If you want, you can use it as long as you’re here, though it’s not really close to the guest quarters.’’

As much as Stephen wants to say yes, it’s not a great idea. ‘’I should stay close to the prince,’’ he says. ‘’It’s my responsibility -’’

‘’There are four Knights here,’’ Mordo interrupts. ‘’We’re in the middle of the Sanctum. What do you think is going to happen?’’

‘’I don’t know, but I have been trusted with this job. I’m not going to relax just because we’re in the Sanctum, Mordo.’’

His old friend examines him closely. ‘’If that’s what you want,’’ he says eventually. ‘’Do you want to do a duel after the tour? For old time’s sake?’’

Romanoff turns to them, not even hiding the fact that she was listening in. ‘’What kind of duel?’’ she asks, obviously intrigued.

Now the entire table turns towards them. Tony has barely touched his food yet, though there’s a half-eaten piece of bread on his plate, Stephen notes. Mordo answers for him. ‘’A duel is a way to teach apprentices how to engage in combat without weapons. We use our own relics, made from the Mystic Arts. It’s a touch of the Aspect of Reality, but not enough to gain Mastery, as it’s also tied into the other Aspects quite a bit. It’s complicated and difficult to explain if you don’t know how it works. Stephen and I often duelled together when we were younger.’’

Stephen remembers those days - laughing and watching Mordo’s predatory grin, the way his muscles gleamed with the sweat on his arms, and how the sand would stick to his hair if Stephen got him down for a second. He remembers Mordo kicking his feet from under him and pinning him, his breath ghosting over his face. Stephen had relished those moments.

It had been as much practice as it’d been something else. Glancing at Mordo, he wonders if his old friend is trying to get that back. If he misses it. Strangely, Stephen hadn’t thought of it much at all.

He can feel Tony staring at him, but he doesn’t look back.

‘’I haven’t had a duel in almost half a year,’’ he says, absent-mindedly brushing his tunic. ‘’I’m afraid you’d have the advantage.’’

‘’You didn’t seem to have any trouble challenging me,’’ Rhodes says, and Stephen remembers that mock fight. That duel had been very different - the Knight is a warrior of many abilities, but he had clearly never fought a Master before. It’s another kind of fighting, though there’d been a few moments that Stephen had almost lost his footing as well.

‘’Duels are quite different,’’ he explains. ‘’It’s a different way of fighting. As Mordo said, it’s hard to explain without knowing what it is.’’

‘’Then show us,’’ Tony says, and his eyes are fixed on Stephen. ‘’I’d love to see more of the Sanctum’s culture.’’

‘’Very well,’’ Stephen answers, and can’t help but stare back. It’s a few moments of wordless interaction; Stephen is aware he’s saying more than just words, though he wouldn’t be able to figure out what he’s saying for the life of him. And yet, this one moment - it’s already more adrenaline than the duel with Mordo would ever give him.

But then Knight Rhodes says something to the prince, and those dark eyes leave his own. Stephen exhales and focuses on his food again.

~*~

Strange is - different, in the Sanctum.

It’s not as if Tony isn’t aware that he doesn’t know him well. The sorcerer had been appointed to be his guard, and Tony had somewhat expected him to give into failure soon enough. Maybe not too soon, considering the determination that radiates off him, but surely it wouldn’t have taken long. 

Right now, he’s not even sure he wants Strange to go. Their cat-and-mouse game is still fun, and Tony likes it when Strange catches up with him. There’s something about him that resonates in Tony, and he doesn’t know what it is.

He just knows that he doesn’t like the way that Master Mordo laughs at Strange, free and familiar with him. He doesn’t know how to feel about Strange smiling back and then looking at Tony, those light eyes searching for something. And the worst thing is that he doesn’t know why or how he even cares about any of this. He knows Strange only in the most superficial of ways, except that some of their conversations were like that glance just now - the majority of things going unsaid but not unheard.

Right now, Strange is a few feet away. Knight Barton is standing next to him, while Rogers and Romanoff are off somewhere doing something to make sure Tony is secure. Completely unnecessary, in the Sanctum, but they hadn’t wanted to hear any of that. Barton is less strict, in that regard.

Rhodes is talking to another Master, but Tony can’t keep his eyes off Strange. He’s changed clothes and disrobed his cloak; his arms are completely uncovered, his tunic threaded with green. His pants stop just above his ankles, giving him ample space to move, and his feet are bare. He looks more like a prince than Tony does, in his own opinion; so far removed from everyone else. He’d thought it was because of him being a Master, but none of the other sorcerers in the Sanctum hold a candle to Strange’s air of mystery.

The duel takes place outside. The gardens are twice as big as the building, if Tony’s rough estimations are correct. There’s grass and greenery at the start of the entrance, but they’re in the back now. There are some plateaus that serve as training fields, from the look of it. 

Mordo stands opposite Strange on one of the plateaus, his face stern. He has one hand raised in the air and the other stretched out before him with his palm upwards. Strange holds the same position, looking like blissful concentration personified. 

‘’I’m curious what this will be like,’’ Rhodey says. ‘’None of the Masters in court ever duel like this. They don’t use much magic at all.’’

‘’Let’s see,’’ Tony mutters, his eyes glued to the duel. Some other Masters have joined them to watch, their cloaks swirling in the wind. 

‘’Are you ready?’’ Mordo calls.

‘’Ready,’’ Strange says, his voice as low as always. He closes his eyes for a moment, and Mordo moves.

Tony wants to scream at him to get away when Strange doesn’t move when Mordo moves towards him, but he doesn’t. His heart beats loudly in his chest as Strange moves away at the last moment, ducking to the left and sliding away. 

Strange’s hands begin glittering as he conjures up a weapon in between them - there’s sparks of red and yellow in between the green. It takes him a few moments to form the sword, if it can be called that. It’s ethereal and glowing, and Mordo forms his own weapon, broader than Strange’s. 

Mordo is quick and bold. He moves fluidly, his sword almost a different part of him. His own weapon glows a bright purple, and Tony remembers that he’s a Master of Power. He wonders how much it matters in a duel such a this - he wonders if Power would ever lose from Time. It seems unlikely, to him.

Mordo thrusts his weapon at Strange, who blocks with his own and moves past him. Strange’s footwork is smoother than that of his opponent, his bare feet hitting the tiles. He slashes with his green weapon at Mordo, who ducks away just in time.

It goes on like that for a while. The audience grows, but the two Masters barely seem to realize that. 

‘’Who do you think is going to win?’’ Barton says off-handedly.

‘’I know Strange is good, but he’s on the defence too much,’’ Rhodey says, frowning a bit. ‘’I don’t know why he’s not attacking. From what’s going on now, Master Mordo will win, if Strange doesn’t come up with a solution soon.’’

‘’He will,’’ Tony says, and don’t know why it matters.

‘’You never know with these sorcerer types,’’ Barton comments, his entire stance as cheerful as if he’s looking at two children playing tag instead of a duel. ‘’It can go either way, but my money’s on Strange. Look at his feet - he’s trying to find another opening. One that he can use to strike.’’

Tony doesn’t see much, but Barton has more experience with sorcerers and battling in general. Besides, there’s a reason his nickname is Hawkeye. He just watches the two men continue their duel, striking and ducking, pure concentration on their faces.

Mordo’s sword lights up a brighter purple within a second, and he moves it right towards Strange. Tony tenses, but Strange seems to have been prepared for the movement. A green light pulsates from his own weapon, and suddenly he’s not there anymore - he’s behind Mordo and pushes him back, suddenly relentless in his pacing.

Mordo’s flare of purple goes off into nothing. He struggles to keep up with Strange, though his defence is clearly well-trained. Still, Strange is suddenly far quicker, almost blinking through time.

Tony frowns at the mystic weapon in his hands, still glowing green. ‘’Is he using magic?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Barton says. ‘’He had to wait for Mordo to use his Aspect. Power takes a while to unload, you know, so he only used it when he thought he had Strange in a corner. That’s when Strange used Time, so he could get away from him. He’s probably slowed down his own sense of time, so he can respond quicker. Smart move.’’

The archer sounds appreciative of the techniques used. Tony can only watch in marvel as the Master of Time moves inhumanly fast. Eventually, Mordo stumbles to the ground and Strange holds his weapon to his chin.

‘’Yield,’’ he murmurs loud enough for the crowd to hear, and Tony shivers.

Mordo just laughs. ‘’I yield,’’ he says, and Strange’s demeanor instantly changes. His weapon fazes out of existence, as does Mordo’s, and he helps his friend up with a smile on his face and a relaxed stance.

‘’I nearly had you,’’ Mordo says, waving his finger at Strange.

Strange smiles. ‘’If you hadn’t tried to use Power, yes. But I knew you would.’’

‘’Don’t get cocky, Stephen. Next one, you’ll be the one biting the dust.’’

‘’Doubtful. You can try, however.’’

Tony turns away, feeling like an outsider. He’d always lived in the Palace, where he’d been somewhat of an oddity due to his status, but that was home. He was welcome and wanted there, in a sense. Even when he’d travelled to other parts of Veston or even other realms, he’d been there in his capacity as a prince, expected and given all respect.

Rhodey glances at him with a frown. ‘’Where are you going?’’ he asks as Tony takes a step away.

‘’Exploring,’’ Tony says. Mordo has already given them a short tour and most of their stuff had been left in the chambers - Tony having his individual bedroom, of course. That doesn’t mean there still aren’t places he hasn’t seen. The Sanctum is a big place, after all.

‘’I’ll come,’’ Rhodey offers. Tony thinks about rejecting his company - he feels an odd need to be alone. On the other hand, maybe that’d just be isolating himself. He can use a friend.

‘’Do try to keep up, Knight Rhodes,’’ he says, smiling at his lifelong companion. Rhodey’s lips tilt into a humorous grin as he follows.

~*~

The Sanctum is slowly starting to feel more familiar, after his duel with Mordo. Maybe because some of the Masters give him an appreciative nod when he heads to the bathing area, feeling his tunic stick to him. Maybe because he’s proven himself to be able to hold up against one of their own, while most of the sorcerers in the Sanctum only know him vaguely from back in Kamar-Taj. 

‘’Look who suddenly looks brighter,’’ Mordo comments as he walks beside him. ‘’We had quite the audience, didn’t you notice? There will certainly be some comments on your win.’’

Stephen eyes him. Mordo doesn’t seem to mind that Stephen beat him. Not that he has to - there’s been plenty of times in the past when Mordo had the upper hand. Their very first duel had been when Stephen was sixteen and largely inexperienced in combat. Mordo had wiped the floor with him.

‘’Anyone is allowed to watch,’’ Stephen reminds him.

Mordo grins. ‘’The prince seemed rather intrigued.’’

‘’He’s never seen a duel before.’’ Stephen takes a right turn. He’d taken good care to remember the directions, and Mordo eyes him knowingly. ‘’I can’t blame him for wanting to see.’’

‘’He disappeared quite suddenly afterwards,’’ Mordo says. ‘’I hope he wasn’t offended. The Ancient One made it my duty to look after him, but I can hardly walk after him all day. That’s not what you do in the Palace, I hope?’’

‘’Hardly. Prince Anthony is a capable man, Mordo. And I didn’t see Knight Rhodes either, afterwards, so I’m sure he joined the prince.’’

‘’Good,’’ Mordo says, and stops. Stephen looks at him in some confusion. They have just turned the corner, standing in the shade of some trees. No one else is around, and Mordo takes a step closer. ‘’I did want to spend some time with you, after all.’’

A realization dawns on Stephen. He hadn’t thought much about his relationship with Mordo - he’d assumed they would go back to being friends, but he hadn’t given any consideration to the… _physical_ aspect their friendship had contained before. When Mordo left, he’d just left, and Stephen had done just as well without him. It has been several years, now, and he’s not even quite sure whether he knows the man Mordo is now. If going back to what they were is something that he is interested in.

He has never thought about it again. It had been fun while it lasted, but now - things are different, now. Things have consequences. And physical relationships aren’t forbidden between Masters, but they pose a certain risk that is frowned upon. Besides, it’s not as if Stephen has missed Mordo. Not in that way.

Mordo’s eyes are dark and weigh down on him. His face is close enough for Stephen to feel his breath on his mouth - and apparently, he sees something that starts him into coming closer.

For a second, Stephen freezes, seeing the scene play out before him. The next, Stephen takes a step back, the one pace of distance feeling like he is creating an abstract chasm that can’t be mended. ‘’No,’’ he says, and doesn’t know why. All the reasons he thought of - they should have caused a feeling of neutrality in him, not this clenching of his heart. It feels wrong, somehow. Misplaced.

‘’Why?’’ Mordo says, tilting his head and taking a step closer again.

Stephen pushes him away, this time, gently moving him. ‘’It’s not like that anymore,’’ he says, not quite knowing how to explain the feeling. ‘’I’m not interested.’’

The darkness of Mordo’s eyes can be attributed to something else entirely, now. ‘’Is there someone else?’’ he asks, frowning. ‘’Someone from Kamar-Taj? From the Palace?’’

He vigorously shakes his head. ‘’It’s just me,’’ he says. ‘’Too many things are different, Mordo. Too many years have passed.’’

Mordo is silent for a few moments, before he gives a stark nod. ‘’If anyone would know about Time, it’s you,’’ he concedes faintly, taking a step back. ‘’The offer stands, Stephen. There’s no one who knows you the way that I do, so you’re open to take it any time. I will go to the gardens for a short time. Go on without me.’’

Stephen nods. Bathing is more of a public thing for the sorcerers than is usually appreciated among other groups, but it feels a bit too intimate to share such a thing with Mordo after his rejection. Knowing what Mordo wanted of him.

He continues, hearing Mordo’s footsteps fade away into another direction. Suddenly, the Sanctum feels a lot emptier, and not as familiar as he’d thought it was. 

_There’s no one who knows you the way that I do_. It’s true, isn’t it? Maybe that’s the saddest thing of all. A man Stephen hasn’t thought about in weeks, and that still hasn’t changed. He shakes off the feeling - a bath will certainly make him feel better. It’s not as if he’s not friends with Mordo anymore; he just wants other things, now.

He twirls his hand, seeing them light up with a blue glow. He can’t teleport yet, using the Aspect of Space - only Masters can - but he can shorten his path, in a way. It’s good practice, at any rate. 

Practicing Space isn’t as new and exciting now that his thoughts are filled with something else, however. Despite Mordo backing off, Stephen still thinks of that moment he’d stepped closer to him, almost pressing together. Why does Mordo still want it? Does it mean more to him than it used to? In Kamar-Taj, it had been no more than a physical exertion - a pleasurable way of spending time with each other. Stephen had felt something, back then, but he’d managed to never let Mordo be aware of his feelings. In time, whatever he’d wanted had shifted. All his desires had been about getting to the Sanctum, after Mordo left - and not because he was there. Because Stephen had a purpose in life, and he wanted to fulfil it.

He doesn’t have many friends, having spent most of his time dedicated to his training. The only ones who come close are Mordo, who he hasn’t seen in over a year, and Christine, who is still studying to Master Reality in Kamar-Taj. And now one of them has left, and Stephen is alone in the Sanctum. He sighs, opening the doors to the baths.

Only to find that there’s someone occupying the bath already. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, since the baths are big enough and the sorcerers uncaring about nudity in general, except -

‘’Master Strange,’’ the prince says, blinking as he appears.

‘’My prince,’’ Stephen returns, and takes a small step back. Normally he would just join whoever was in the bath and go to the other side, which wouldn’t bother anyone involved. Prince Anthony might not be of the same mindset, however. ‘’I’ll just -’’

‘’No, wait up.’’ Tony rises a bit and Stephen looks away to avoid looking at the nude smoothness that is his prince’s chest. ‘’I just wanted - congratulations on your victory. You fought really well.’’

Stephen nods, standing still in the door opening. ‘’Thank you, my prince,’’ he says, and hesitates. 

‘’Yes, I know I’m using the public baths,’’ the prince says with some amusement. ‘’Also, I told you to call me Tony last time, as I recall. Or were you just so stunned to see me that you promptly forgot? I do tend to have that effect on people.’’

Stephen stands there for a few seconds, blinking at the man who is grinning back at him. Tony leans back against the edge of the bath, his elbows up at the floor. His hair is dripping wet and almost black, his body gleaming. Then he regains his wits, and raises his eyebrows.

‘’Was there something wrong with the personal bathroom you got?’’ he asks. They do have them in the Sanctum, and also in Kamar-Taj, for visitors who might not be comfortable bathing with the sorcerers. Stephen has learnt to share all his belongings since childhood, and bathing after training with the rest of the group was pretty much a given. Sorcerers do not have much of a private life, in that sense.

Tony shrugs. ‘’I was exploring with Rhodey, but then he had to do a surveillance thing with Steve. Beats me why, to tell you the truth. I ended up near the baths and since I haven’t had time to clean up ever since I was told we were going here, I thought it might be a good opportunity. And I didn’t feel like walking all the way back when there was no one here anyway.’’

‘’Right,’’ Stephen says dryly. ‘’It will be far busier at dusk, when everyone will come bathe. Well then, I will come back later.’’

‘’It’s a public bath,’’ Tony says. ‘’Don’t let me stop you from coming in here. I promise I won’t look.’’

The prince is still grinning broadly. Stephen sighs and makes a split decision, dropping his robe. ‘’As long as you call me by my first name, too,’’ he says, though he’s already removing his shoes. ‘’Now, look away. I don’t want to be accused of indecency in front of royalty when returning to the Palace.’’

Tony looks away and sinks back into the bath. There’s enough soap in the water for everything to be completely hidden, and Stephen is thankful for that as he removes all his clothes and drops them on the floor. He sinks in the water, feeling all his muscles relax. 

He still feels a bit tense, however, with the prince being only a few feet away from him, and both of them completely naked. It’s just because he hasn’t been in a public bath for a while, he tells himself. The blush on his face is because of the heat from the water, and nothing else. 

The prince glances at him again, something softer than amusement in his expression. ‘’We should get these in the Palace, too,’’ he says. ‘’Let’s see what the nobles think of this. On the other hand, maybe not. There’s some nobles that I really do not want to see naked. Your sorcerer types are mostly athletic, at least.’’

Stephen scrunches his nose. ‘’I don’t even want to think of the security measures that would have to be taken.’’

‘’Have you ever thought about _not_ caring about security?’’ Tony points out, and smiles. ‘’You don’t need any of that here.’’

‘’None of the sorcerers are as high-profile as you are,’’ Stephen says. ‘’We’re servants of the realm, and not nobles. Besides, no one’s stupid enough to infiltrate the Sanctum. You need security, Tony, as loathe as you may be to admit it. Especially since we’re here because of a threat to your life.’’

Tony looks away again, and Stephen regrets having said anything. No matter how much he may pretend not to care, Tony came here without a word of complaint. He must be aware of how dire the situation is, and clinging to a pretense of safety.

‘’Can we just… not talk about that?’’ he asks. ‘’Just tell me something about here. About the Sanctum and the Mystic Arts.’’

Stephen nods. ‘’Of course,’’ he says, and tells about learning how to control a power.


	5. Blue / III

The Sanctum is a breath of fresh air for Tony. It has been a week since he first got here, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off him. He hadn’t known how much he needed this, but it’s apparent now. He has had fewer nightmares, and actually wakes up refreshed. There’s no nobles to entertain during meals, and the sorcerers mostly leave him be to go about his own day.

Except Stephen, of course, but that’s another thing altogether.

There is a meditation going on in the gardens. Tony sits on a bench near them, watching the sorcerers just breathe in and out. Sometimes, colourful sparks come from their fingers. The entire Sanctum is full of the smell and sensation of the Mystic Arts, and it’s something he has grown used to.

Rhodey sits next to him, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. Tony is drawing a new idea for a sword that he had, adding some adjustments. A shadow suddenly comes over his drawing, and he looks up to see Clint Barton grinning at him.

‘’Afternoon, prince,’’ the Knight of Vice greets him and sits down next to them. ‘’How are you on this sunny day?’’

Barton is a weird Knight. He’s efficient and a brutal fighter when he needs to be, but outside of combat, he’s oddly optimistic and bright. Tony smiles back. ‘’Fine until you came along,’’ he jokes, and Barton’s grin fades into something sympathetic.

‘’I’m afraid that’s going to be more true than you’d hoped,’’ he says, and leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees. ‘’Nat just got word from the King. Tomorrow’s our last day at the Sanctum.’’

‘’They found out how that note got there?’’ Tony asks, his heart hammering. He hasn’t thought about this in almost a full week.

‘’Didn’t get word on that, so I don’t think so. Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on you. I don’t want to sit through another lecture on that.’’ Barton makes a face.

Rhodey leans forward as well. ‘’How can they send us back when the threat hasn’t been solved yet? This thing got way too close!’’

‘’Don’t worry, Rhodey,’’ Tony says, eyeing the unknowing expression on Barton’s face. ‘’Nothing’s going to hurt me.’’

‘’Damn right it won’t,’’ his friend says, eyes dark. 

Barton rises again. ‘’I’ll go let the others know as well, and that sorcerer dude that’s in charge. Mordo, right? I’ll see you during dinner.’’

Tony sits in silence for a few moments, staring at his drawing. If he goes back to the Palace, he can finally get around to making his swords and armour again. Go back to Pepper and Obi, and sleep in his own bed. 

And yet. His own bed means nightmares. The Sanctum is on the edge of Ireningas, and it feels like he doesn’t need to care about anything here. Not about the nobles wanting to befriend him, not about the people wanting him to solve their problems. He sighs, the weight settling on his shoulders again.

‘’Nothing is going to happen,’’ Rhodey insists, misinterpreting his sigh. ‘’I promise, Tony, we’ll keep you safe.’’

‘’Safe?’’ a new voice comes. Stephen stares at them, a look of wonderment in his face. Tony has to take a deep breath at seeing him. 

‘’We have to return to the Palace tomorrow,’’ Rhodey says. Tony watches the sorcerer, expecting to see his face fall. By now, he should have known that Stephen never shows what he thinks. 

This week has been weird as well as relaxing. Stephen had no obligation to remain close to Tony, now that they are in the Sanctum, but somehow he’d still seen it as his duty to guard him. Or maybe he’d just enjoyed sitting with Tony, but he doubts that, somehow. 

Ever since that first day, with the bathing incident, Tony hasn’t really known how to act around Stephen. They’re on first-name basis now, yes, but Tony should maybe just have let him leave. He just remembers Stephen sitting in the hot water, his meticulously groomed facial hair the only thing covering anything of him. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

It had not just been that, though. Stephen had kept telling him about the Sanctum, and Tony had been enraptured. With the story, but also with the man telling it. And once he started noticing these little things, it was hard to stop.

‘’There must be a reason,’’ Stephen says sensibly. ‘’We must do as the king commands.’’

‘’Even if there’s still a threat to the life of the person you are meant to protect?’’ Rhodey challenges him, standing up. Stephen tilts his head and moves his hands behind his back. 

Tony rises as well, shaking his head at his friend. ‘’He’s right, Rhodey. We can’t disobey Howard. There’s a reason we’re being called back now, for better or worse. We’re just going to have to go home tomorrow, and that’s that. I’ll be fine.’’

Stephen’s eyes are still on his; blue and piercing. Tony wonders if the sorcerer knows how he affects him, and pushes it out of his mind. Stephen Strange is the epitome of a perfect sorcerer, a guardian of Veston. And their ranks are too far apart for anything to ever happen, even casually. Tony wouldn’t let it bother him, but he knows that Stephen might.

Besides, who’s to say Stephen even cares about such things? Or would want anything to do with Tony? He ignores the stab of _something_ that the thought brings him and focuses on more important things - the threat on his life, for example.

‘’I can see if a Master of Space is available to create a portal for us tomorrow,’’ Stephen says eventually. ‘’It’s the safest way to travel in any case.’’

Rhodey rises as well. ‘’I can do that,’’ his friend says. ‘’There are some arrangements that I have to make, if we’re leaving tomorrow. Do you happen to know where Knight Romanoff is?’’

‘’She was sparring with a Master of Reality, last I saw.’’ Stephen’s lips tilt into a smile. ‘’She was holding up admirably. Reality isn’t easily bended for that woman. She knows what is true and what is not.’’

‘’Sounds like Natasha,’’ Rhodey agrees. He gives Tony a lingering look and a friendly pat on the shoulder before he disappears. Tony leans back, tapping his fingers on the inside of his book. It muddles his sketch a bit, but he is beyond caring.

Strange eyes him for a moment. ‘’Are you concerned?’’

‘’There’s nothing to be concerned about,’’ Tony responds and sags back. He can pretend all day long, if he has to - he hates the attention. He hates his friends worrying about him, as if he’ll be stabbed the moment they turn around for one moment. Casual fun is not a thing that Tony can have as long as there is a threat to his life. He knows that, but he can fake it. As long as Rhodey shakes his head at him with a disbelieving but genuine grin, and as long as Happy will stop looking so tense for a moment, he can pretend.

He has never known Stephen to stop being on guard. Then again, he’s never been around Stephen without there being a threat to Tony’s life, and he never will. The moment the threat is gone, Stephen will return to the Sanctum and spend his life among stuffy books to protect Veston from any and all dangers.

This isn’t anything more than a job to the sorcerer, and Tony had best remember that.

Stephen sits down next to him, his hands folded on his lap as he looks over to the training fields. There is an air to him that Tony finds hard to explain - mysterious and powerful, and so much more royal than Tony could ever hope to be. Perhaps in another world, Stephen would have been the prince and Tony his guard. Stephen would’ve made less of a mess of everything.

‘’I am concerned,’’ Stephen says, and then his gaze rests on Tony. ‘’You seemed more relaxed than ever in the Sanctum. There is no threat than can destroy this home, but whoever wants to harm you has come closer than ever in the Palace. I am your guard and yet, it seems I can do very little. Especially with how unaffected you seem to be by the entire thing.’’

‘’The King will have made preparations,’’ Tony says, though he’s not certain. ‘’If nothing else, he is cold and calculating.’’

‘’Good qualities for a King,’’ Stephen notes. ‘’Not so much for a father. Tony, please. There is no shame in asking for help. Especially when your life is on the line.’’

‘’Don’t you have preparations to make?’’ Tony snaps. He doesn’t want to think about someone trying to murder him solely because of his title. He doesn’t want to imagine Rhodey and Stephen throwing themselves in harm’s way just to spare Tony. He can do this by himself.

Stephen rises. He doesn’t look mysterious now - just dismayed and angered. ‘’What about your mother?’’ the sorcerer demands. ‘’Did your father’s preparations save her life? Did his guards do anything to help her? She died needlessly, and I will not stand by and let the same thing happen to you!’’

Maria Stark - dead too young and without reason. Howard won’t talk about it and Tony won’t listen to anything said on the matter. He can barely remember her voice - all he remembers is her singing when she sat behind the piano and played. Even those memories grow more faded by the day.

‘’If you ever mention my mother again, you don’t ever have to come back to my side,’’ Tony says, the fire in him burning all the viciousness from the words. He is calm and collected - another thing he can pretend to be. Calm and collected, the way his mother was. Right up to the moment she fell onto the floor, choking on death.

Stephen takes a step back. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’And I don’t care. Leave.’’

And for once, Stephen does what Tony asks of him - his red cloak fluttering behind him, the sorcerer disappears. Tony is left with his inventions and the blowing wind pulling at the pages of his notebook. He lets out a sigh.

He’d wondered before what it would look like if Stephen stopped being so serene all the time. Here he has the answer - Tony manages to drive anyone mad. Stephen’s comment was not at all justified, however, and Tony meant what he said. If anyone wants to say a word about his mother’s murder, they can do so far away from him.

He can’t bear to listen.

~*~ 

Stephen doesn’t know how to feel, standing in the courtyard with the horse he came on next to him. A Master of Space stands beside the group of Knights and the prince, ready for his duties with an impatient expression.

Mordo looks at him. ‘’I hope you will return soon.’’

‘’As do I,’’ Stephen mutters, though he’s not certain. The week he’d spent in the Sanctum had not been what he’d expected of it beforehand. He managed to study up a lot, and he’d been able to extend his knowledge on Space when talking to the other Masters and practicing. He’d meditated and spent time with peers - some Masters he hadn’t seen in years.

Being in the Sanctum had been his dream when he’d been studying in Kamar-Taj, but it doesn’t feel like he’d thought it would. It had been mundane, in some ways. The best moments had been spent with Tony - telling him stories while the prince had not tried to run away. And like an idiot, Stephen had lost his temper and with it, his burgeoning friendship with the prince.

Tony isn’t even looking at him, holding the reins to his own horse with an unreadable expression as Rhodes talks to him. Stephen wishes he hadn’t said anything, yesterday, just so that they would still be on good terms. This week had done wonders for their friendship, and he’d hoped that it would also help him protect Tony better. Not just because that is what he was enlisted for - he has grown to genuinely care about Tony.

The thought of seeing him die, knowing that Stephen should have protected him, is unbearable. He’d lashed out, and that is unacceptable.

A portal appears before him, and Stephen starts as he realizes that he’s been staring off into nothingness for a while now. Mordo is still beside him, a hand on his horse so as to stop him from leaving.

‘’Stephen, it’s perhaps not my place to say this, but as the Ancient One is not here - don’t take on too much power.’’

Mordo talks in a hushed whisper even as the first of their group are leaving already.

‘’What are you talking about?’’ Stephen says, eyeing Tony going through the portal to the Palace. He needs to follow.

‘’I know you’re studying Space. We don’t lose more than one colour - we are Master of only one Aspect. One is all we need. You have mastered Time, Stephen, and that is enough. Kaecilius was too greedy. Go now, but remember that.’’

Stephen frowns. ‘’Who is Kaecilius?’’ he asks, but Knight Rogers is already calling for him. Mordo just shakes his head and that is enough of an answer. There are some things that the Sanctum will not speak about - horrors and dangers that are years past. It’s a protection, though Stephen is not so certain about the silence right now. Who is Kaecilius?

The sensation of the portal is strange. He came to Ireningas by portal when he left Kamar-Taj to be appointed as Master by the King, but it was different then. Now, Stephen is more familiar with the Aspect of Space, and it feels warmer when he passes through the glowing circle. On the other side, the rest of the group is waiting already, and the portal closes behind Stephen.

Once again, he is in the Palace, unable to return to the Sanctum. This time, it doesn’t feel like a punishment - it feels like a chance. Here, he will protect Tony and figure out whoever wants to harm him. 

He doesn’t think about returning to the Sanctum afterwards, never to see Tony again. The court is not forbidden for Masters - there are enough who live here and assist the King with the more mundane tasks that are beneath the Sorcerer Supreme. He never thought he’d be one of them, but he can come and visit sometimes. 

Two guards are waiting for them - Stephen only recognizes Happy Hogan, who looks relieved upon seeing Tony return without any hair harmed upon his head. Knight Hogan isn’t the most dangerous of the Knights of Virtue, but he certainly is one of the most steadfast ones.

‘’My prince, welcome back in the Palace,’’ Hogan says, a ready smile on his face. Stephen isn’t sure that the man’s first name is actually ‘Happy’ or if it is a nickname, but if it’s the latter, he can see why. ‘’The King is waiting for you. He has requested your entire party to come along.’’

Tony nods briskly. Stephen can’t see his face, but he doubts that Tony enjoyed the thought of returning. The Sanctum was a good holiday for him - something he needs more of, but will not receive. The life of a royal.

Servants take away their horses. Stephen wishes they could’ve gone to their rooms first and freshened up - he is wearing his Master’s cloak and standard tunics, but nothing truly fit for the company of a King. He has learned how much the court likes to gossip, and while he hardly cares about whatever the nobles may think of him - well, it’s easier if there’s no rumours about him whatsoever.

Besides, slighting Howard in any perceivable way is not considered a good move by anyone.

Tony walks with his head held high, Rhodes next to him. Rogers, Barton and Romanoff are discussing something, their words too quiet to hear. Stephen doesn’t mind, as he just follows by himself. It is best to remember that he is a sorcerer and not from here. The Knights are just as closed off a group as the Masters are, both here to protect Veston. He does not need to be privy to their discussions.

The throne room is the same as ever. The stained glass reflects the seven colours of the Sanctum on the floor - not that Stephen can see the green. It has been months now since he has last seen green, and the melancholy hits him hard. He had never believed he’d be capable of missing the colour so much. He hadn’t even realized he’d missed it until now.

He stares at the blue bright on the floor. He hasn’t mastered Space yet, and he may never have to. He can still see the sky and the sea. He can still look in the mirror and see his own eye colour. There are thousands of things that he can still appreciate, even if green has disappeared.

The King stands before them. No one else is there but Howard and the group that has to appear before him. Stephen wonders how much of a mess they are - Tony, certainly, isn’t wearing any princely sort of clothes. Rhodes looks fairly presentable, and Romanoff is impeccable, but Rogers and Barton’s armours aren’t nearly shining as brightly as when they left.

‘’My King,’’ Tony says and kneels. The Knights follow, and Stephen drops to his knees together with them. Howard regards them all coolly for a few moments before he gestures at them to rise. 

He takes a few steps forward to stand eye to eye with his son. He is a little taller, but Tony does not seem any less regal for it. His young features speak of strength, while Howard just seems weary. His eyes, however - his eyes are as sharp as ever.

‘’Lord Stane and I have made sure that the entire Palace was searched,’’ he says lowly, ‘’every stable boy and maid interrogated. No one has seen anything and all alibis checked out. The Knights of Vice and Virtue have been scrutinized meticulously, and no blemish found. There is nothing we can do but take more security measures.’’

Tony’s voice betrays nothing. ‘’More security measures.’’

‘’From now on, you won’t ever be without a Knight of Virtue or Master Strange. A Knight of Vice will always be nearby to lend any assistance in the case of an emergency. But that is not the extent of it. This is not an attack on you, Anthony.’’

‘’Funny, because I was thinking it was me that everyone wanted dead,’’ Tony says flatly. Howard must notice his son’s attitude, but it doesn’t seem like he cares.

Instead, he just takes a step back and examines him. ‘’Only for being my heir,’’ Howard says almost off-handedly. ‘’You are a threat because you are the crown prince. My only child and fruit of a direct lineage. With your death, who will be king?’’

‘’We do have cousins,’’ Tony points out, crossing his arms. ‘’My death wouldn’t mean the end of our line.’’

‘’None of them bear the Stark name,’’ Howard snarls. ‘’You are being purposefully obtuse, boy. You are going to marry as soon as we find you a suitable wife. And once you’re married, you’re going to continue the Stark line.’’

‘’It’s harder to kill the family when there’s more of them, that’s it?’’ Tony says incredulously, throwing up his hands. Stephen waits, suddenly revulsed with their King. The idea of simply marrying off his only son just to make sure the line endured if Tony was killed - who would come up with that?

‘’It is,’’ Howard says, his expression darkening. ‘’You will marry a woman after we’ve thrown a ball and found someone of proper status. And, hopefully, in less than a year there will be a Stark son to continue our line and bear our name. You have been allowed free reign for long enough.’’

‘’I’m not going to marry anyone,’’ Tony says.

‘’What are you going to do?’’ Howard roars, and the room feels even more silent in the echo of the King’s exclamation. ‘’There are Knights appointed to you! There is nowhere you can go. You are the future of this kingdom, and you better act like it! No more sneaking away to the forge and no more hiding from your guards! You will take responsibility now, and you will _listen_ to me!’’

That is why they are here, Stephen realizes in dawning horror. They are no longer to act as Tony’s protection - they are here to keep him here if he wants to flee. He can only protect Tony as long as he has to play jailor to him. They have to know exactly what their prince is going to run from so they can stop him - and then what? Guard his fiancée? Guard the child that will be on the way?

When is this assignment over, in that case? Will Stephen forever be in this Palace, being held here against his will as he forces Tony into a life that he doesn’t want? That can’t be the reason that the Ancient One wanted him here. There must be something that can be done.

But for now, he stays silent. The sword that Tony gave him rests on his back underneath the cloak, ready for him to be armed at a moment’s notice. It feels like treachery, now, to have it. He won’t use it except to protect Tony and Veston, he decides. Not King Howard - he won’t use it for duty. Not that kind of duty, at least.

‘’We’ll see,’’ Tony says. He turns around, pushing past the Knights. For one moment, his gaze meets Stephen’s. His eyes are dark and solemn - a storm brewing, a fire ready to destroy. The prince will not lie down and abide. 

This is going to be only more difficult from now on.

~*~

Stephen is right. It has been four days since they returned from the Sanctum and he already feels like he needs another holiday. If he thought Tony was being difficult when he’d just arrived - well, it’s nothing compared to what Tony does now.

Rhodes is equally helpless. Whereas Tony used to tell him everything, now there is a rift between them, fully created by the King. Rhodes is a Knight first and foremost, and Stephen can see Tony slowly losing the trust in those he once considered his friends.

When Tony had been lost in the Palace before, gone from Stephen’s watchful eyes, he’d had a plan to find him. The first step was always to check the forge. The second step, if necessary, was to check with Rhodes. A third step was to check his bedroom, and if all that bore no fruit, it was time to check other places. The training salle, sometimes, or even the gardens. Pepper, their Treasurer, always knows who can tell him Tony’s location, even if she hadn’t known herself. He would’ve gone to her immediately instead of Rhodey, if not for the fact she always seemed incredibly busy.

Even Pepper can’t find Tony in the Palace anymore. 

‘’We need to up the guards again,’’ Rhodes says absentmindedly, counting on his fingers which guards and Knights still remain off Tony-duty. ‘’Perhaps weld his window shut. The only way out will be the door. Not that Tony wouldn’t be creative and find another escape route in time, but it’ll give us a break for at least two days.’’

Stephen walks with him along the hallways. It’s nearing dinner time, and that means all nobles will be cooped up in the hall. He doubts Tony will be there, and a thought comes to him.

‘’Extra guards won’t have much use. The prince knows how to evade them. But he never comes to dinner, does he? Perhaps we can add some more security to the kitchens. He will need to pass them.’’

Rhodes nods thoughtfully. ‘’A good idea. Look, Stephen, I’m not saying that you’re not being helpful already, but can’t you - some magic, maybe?’’

‘’Perhaps,’’ Stephen says, considering. ‘’I’m afraid Time can only help so much, however -’’

‘’What’s that?’’ Rhodes cuts him off. Stephen follows his gaze to see the same thing - a shimmer of something liquid in the setting sun. Red. There is no trace of a body or a fight; it might just be that someone cut themselves. On what, however? How would someone cut themselves in the middle of a hallway, and just leave the blood dripping on the ground?

‘’Blood,’’ he says, and shares a look with the Knight of Virtue. ‘’Might be nothing. To be sure - I’m going left, you go right?’’

‘’Make sure someone gets Tony,’’ Rhodes says tersely. ‘’I don’t care what we have to do to find him - he _has_ to be safe.’’

Stephen only nods before they’re running off. He hasn’t managed to find Tony in a while, now, and there is hardly a chance of him doing it now. Still, he needs to make sure that everything is safe and under control.

Coming to a decision, he stops in the middle of an empty room. It seems to be someone’s personal room, though Stephen doesn’t know who it could belong to. There is dust everywhere, and a piano stands in the corner of the room. Its keys have not been touched in years from the looks of it.

He takes a deep breath. Time has its limits, though it also has great power. Turning back Time - well, it’s possible, but there are more dangers involved than Stephen wants to take. Instead, he calms his mind and listens to the echoes of the time.

He closes his eyes, and just listens. He can hear the piano being played in a distant past, a woman’s voice warm as she sings along. A child joins in a few years later, and he thinks he can hear the woman praising her son. Her voice stops coming, though the son comes back by himself to play the instrument a few times - his voice is full of tears and bitterness, and this must be Tony. The woman must have been Maria.

There is only silence for a long few moments. Stephen sees nothing - the silence says enough. This room has been forgotten by the inhabitants of the Palace, and is now nothing more than a painful memory. Silence, until he came in. He can hear his own footsteps, eventually, as the present comes around to echo. The moving of the air as he sits down and waits - waits, and waits. 

He listens intently now as the future comes around to echo. He waits, and waits - hours must have passed when the door creaks. Rhodes’ voice. _We were too late_ , the Knight will say to him. _Where were you, Strange? What are you doing? Can you even hear what I’m saying?_

 _I hear_ , Stephen mutters, uncertain if it’s actually him or the future version of him - the one that has been sitting for hours. 

Rhodes is full of ghosts. _Tony is dead, Strange. They killed him - right in the courtyard. I - I tried to save him. You weren’t there. What are you going to do?_

 _Prevent it from happening_ , Stephen says, and opens his eyes.

The room is empty again. While he has been waiting for hours for a sign of the future, only minutes have passed. If he stays here and does nothing, someone will kill Tony. The very thought sends a cold stab to Stephen’s heart - he can’t let it happen. The courtyard, Rhodes had said.

There is no time to lose. He runs outside to the hallway. The courtyard is on the inside of the Palace, and Stephen is all the way in the west wing. And the Palace is nowhere near small. The urgency takes a grip on him, and he runs and runs. 

He falls to the ground as he bumps into someone. ‘’Strange!’’ Pepper exclaims, her face pale as she regards him. ‘’They’re in the courtyard! We need to help!’’

The courtyard - already. Stephen jumps to his feet. If they’re in the courtyard, Tony could be killed at any moment now. There is no choice, anymore. 

He stretches his arm out before him even as he slows down Time. The use of two Aspects at once pulls at his muscles and his mental shielding, but he cannot miss the window of opportunity. He only controls Time as much as he can while trying to do this - trying to create a portal.

Space is a steady Aspect. It allows a Master to punch holes between places and control location. Geography isn’t a fixed thing, according to a Master of Space - it’s something to be manipulated, something relative, something bendable. Just like Time is to Stephen.

The blue portal shimmers into existence and he jumps - right into the courtyard and nearly on top of Rhodes.

His entrance is good for several things. Tony and Rhodes stop to stare at him with some bafflement - both hold swords in their hands and there is a cut on Tony’s cheek already. There are two assassins before them, both clothed in tunics that Stephen perceives as grey - so they’re probably green. 

They take a step back as the sorcerer appears, but the one on the left - the smallest of the two - takes a step forward with a threatening look on his eyes. There is a hint of red on his sword, and Stephen lets go of his control of Time. The assassin jumps forward, and Stephen releases the portal and pushes the man - who glows blue for a second before he disappears.

And all of a sudden, the sky turns grey.

‘’Behind you!’’ Rhodes roars, but Stephen is too disoriented by the sudden loss of blue to notice a third man coming at him. With a pained grunt, he falls to the ground, only just managing to roll so his face is turned towards his murderer-to-be. The assassin isn’t armed with a sword - he holds a decent morning star in his hand, the spikes coming down with alarming speed.

Stephen closes his eyes and feels Time slow around him again, just as he pushes the man off him and tries to protect his face. The blow is off-balanced, but still close enough to hit - Stephen chokes out a scream of agony as he can feel the spikes maim his hands.

He loses the control of Time as he lies on the ground, trying to breathe even as the pain takes hold of him. He opens his eyes again, desperate to rise and help. He’s come so far, he can’t let them kill Tony - he can’t -

His hands. His hands are completely beyond saving. The skin is broken beyond repair and he can see sinews and bones, the blood making it hard to see them properly. It’s almost enough for him to throw up - he is used to seeing injuries. He’d been a healer, in Kamar-Taj. And yet, to see part of himself so horrendously injured - he looks away again, feeling nauseous.

‘’Stephen!’’ Tony kneels down next to him. The scratch on his face is bleeding sluggishly, but he seems to be alright. The concern on his face speaks volumes, however - something must be horribly wrong. Behind him, the sky is still a bleak grey.

Why is Tony here? Aren’t they fighting some assassins? Are they both dead?

Stephen closes his eyes as the nausea comes up. ‘’What’s the colour of the sky?’’ he murmurs, and lets his head lie back. ‘’Why can’t I see it? Tony, where did blue go?’’

‘’You’ll be alright,’’ Tony whispers, and why has everything gone black now?

~*~

The medical wing is fuller than it normally is. Tony doesn’t take any heed of it - he feels enough guilt already. Stephen Strange seems oddly young, as he slumbers in the bed. It can’t be as comfortable as his own, but he still needs help. Lots of herbs and healing chants from his fellow sorcerers, and maybe his hands will heal.

Maybe they won’t.

If Tony hadn’t been so stubborn, guards would already have been with him. They would’ve been able to fight off the assassins on their own without Stephen having to jump in like some sort of knight in shining armour. Without Stephen’s hands being maimed.

‘’It’s not your fault,’’ Pepper mutters, rubbing his shoulder. ‘’You are not the one that attacked him.’’

Tony is silent. Rhodes sits on the other side. At least his life-long friend hadn’t been injured - Tony isn’t sure he can deal with that kind of guilt. He already thinks he’s drowning over what he did to Stephen. How will he ever repay this? How will Stephen ever forgive him? They had barely spoken since they’d left the Sanctum, and still the sorcerer had jumped in to save him without a doubt. And here they are, and Tony’s chest is heavy with bitter guilt.

‘’It’s the fault of that Skoltian scum,’’ Rhodey agrees. ‘’Stephen will know that too, Tony. They would’ve killed you too, if he hadn’t helped.’’

‘’Skoltia, huh?’’ Tony mutters, not even focusing on what they’re saying. Only Stephen gets to decide if he chooses to forgive Tony or not. That’s not their call.

Rhodey nods. Perhaps he’s also glad for a change of topic. ‘’We don’t know how they’ve infiltrated, but the Knights of Vice are working on that. There’s some whispers about the King starting a war against Skoltia. We’d easily win against them. Menteri won’t want to risk losing its newfound alliance with Veston, and with Skida’s ties to us…’’

The Knight falls silent as the alliances come to an end. Yes, they’ll have allies if it comes to war, but Tony doesn’t really want to think about that. The last war they had was long before he was born, and he’d never really expected that the threat on his life would turn into one.

‘’Are we sure they were from Skoltia?’’ Pepper says all of a sudden. ‘’The King sent me their belongings to value and store safely. I thought they might’ve passed through Skoltia and got the clothing, but they don’t have the red coin with the anvil on it.’’

Tony looks up. ‘’The what?’’ he asks.

‘’You should know this,’’ she berates him, but takes a breath as she sits back. ‘’When Johann Schmidt betrayed Skida and formed Skoltia as his own country, there was a lot of confusion about who belonged to which country. Everyone loyal to the Red Smith received a coin with an anvil on it, so they knew who to trust. It’s still an important tradition, upheld to this day. And while I can understand how _one_ person might lose it - none of the four had a coin.’’

There is a moment of silence only interrupted by Stephen’s gentle breathing. His hands are wrapped in white bandages, some red spots of blood spoiling the colour. He’d asked Tony where the blue was - had he lost it? Had he used so much Space that he’d become a Master? Tony doesn’t know if that’s even possible.

‘’So who hurt him?’’ he asks eventually. ‘’Who tried to kill me?’’

‘’They were made to look Skoltian,’’ Rhodey murmurs. ‘’The only thing we can say for certain is that Skoltia is not behind this. It’s someone who wants to shift the blame on them. Either ally or another enemy who wants to remain hidden. It can be _anyone_.’’

He will find out. Now that they have something concrete to work with, Tony knows what he needs to do. If Stephen can be healed, Tony will make sure that it happens. And in the meanwhile, he can’t pretend nothing is going on anymore. The Knights will protect him, so Stephen won’t have to be injured ever again.

And they will find whoever has threatened him like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and.... the plot thickens :)


	6. Yellow / I

_Something is coming. A sword flashes in the dark, and a woman’s scream fills the air. She chokes on black blood, grabbing him by the hair as her blue eyes turn yellow._

_‘’They’re going to kill you,’’ she sings, a low guttural sound though the rhythm is ever intact. ‘’They’re going to kill you like they killed me.’’_

He isn’t sure why he wakes up, but Tony is pretty certain that it may have to do with the sorcerer in the hospital bed. Or maybe the chair he fell asleep in is just not comfortable enough for sleeping. Stephen is looking at him intently, the dark shadows underneath his eyes only all the more obvious in the candle light.

‘’You were having a nightmare again,’’ the sorcerer says. Tony is glad that he doesn’t ask why he is here in the first place - he wouldn’t be able to explain it well. The nightmares haven’t stopped coming ever since they returned to the Palace, and the loss of sleep is starting to take its toll. 

Somehow, Tony had found himself wandering to the healer’s rooms. Stephen is the only one who remains here, his hands still too badly injured to let him go, despite his own wishes.

Tony sits up and rubs his own eyes, stifling a yawn. The song that his mother was singing slowly disappears from his mind. His nightmares make no sense - Maria was poisoned to death, not stabbed. She hadn’t had time to speak, and her eyes certainly hadn’t changed colours.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ Tony asks first, like he always does. It had been four days since the attack that had injured Stephen so badly. Two days had passed before the sorcerer woke up, and Tony has made it his duty to ensure that he’ll heal properly. The question that remains is if he ever will, however.

Stephen shrugs. ‘’As well as always, my prince.’’

Of course, that’s a lie. Tony has figured out Stephen well enough to know that he is feeling annoyed and useless - he can’t even feed himself, his hands trembling too much when he grabs a fork. The man was already thin before, but he’s lost too much weight to be considered healthy. Fortunately, smoothies of mashed foods had helped somewhat. Stephen’s pride didn’t allow him to be fed by others, and he’d managed to drink those by himself.

A strange thing, how Tony only managed to find out how proud Stephen actually was after this had happened. He hadn’t known, before. He thinks that maybe it came as a surprise to Stephen, too.

The moments of silence aren’t awkward, but Tony isn’t fully comfortable either. Stephen hasn’t said much about the attack or the damage to his hands caused by it. Tony hadn’t been there when he first woke up but he can’t imagine how hurt Stephen would have been. He can’t imagine how _he_ would have felt, had it happened to him, had his hands been so badly off - all he can think of is how he wouldn’t have been able to smith anything ever again.

Maybe things will get better if they actually talk about it. Tony doesn’t want to upset Stephen, but it’s been almost a full week and he can’t ignore this forever. It’s his fault that the sorcerer is injured - if Tony hadn’t been so stubborn, he wouldn’t have needed the last-minute protection.

‘’How did you know?’’ he asks eventually, because that question has been burning on his tongue since the moment Stephen appeared through that portal. ‘’That we were being attacked in the courtyard. I’ve asked around, and Pepper said she’d told you, but you already knew. No one else was there in time, except for you.’’

A wry smile touches Stephen’s lips. Tony thought he looked frail in the bed when he was sleeping, but awake, he is just as commanding as ever. The thinness of his figure and the bandages on his hands don’t make Stephen anything less than he was. 

‘’Time,’’ Stephen says eventually. ‘’I sat down and listened to the echoes of the future. It’s a simple enough mechanism. I sat down and sped up Time around me - and then I waited. I was eventually told where the fight had been - a fight that was already over at the point I heard the words. I returned to the present and interfered. The future I listened to is now a future that will never be.’’

‘’And you created a portal,’’ Tony says. He still remembers - it’s hard to forget, at any rate. He still can see Stephen gasping for breath on the grass, his cloak dirty with mud. His bloody and maimed hands grasping for something that wasn’t there as his gaze was lifted to the sky.

_Tony, where did blue go?_

Stephen hasn’t said anything about it yet, but Tony thinks that he is more than a Master of Time, now. He won’t ask about that, though - he isn’t sure whether it’s even permitted for a Master to learn more than one Aspect. Stephen had shown him some Space when they’d been on the way to the Sanctum, but never more than that. 

Stephen shrugs. ‘’I did.’’

‘’Hearing echoes of the future,’’ Tony says slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the concept, ‘’that’s - well, that’s useful, right? You could figure out lots of things with that.’’

‘’As long as someone comes around to tell those particular things to a sorcerer in the middle of a trance,’’ Stephen says dryly, ‘’yes, certainly. Useful, though not without its dangers. Nothing that I wouldn’t be able to handle, of course.’’

‘’Why don’t you always use that technique to know what to do?’’ Tony asks, genuinely curious. There is so much about the Sanctum that he doesn’t know, and he hadn’t realized it until he got to know Stephen.

Under the light of several candles, Stephen struggles a bit to help himself up. He can’t support himself on his injured hands, but he manages just as well. 

‘’There is the story of the greatest Master of Time that ever lived,’’ Stephen begins. ‘’Some say he also was the first to Master Time, but no one is quite sure. His tale is called ‘the Eye of Agamotto’.’’

‘’The Eye of Agamotto,’’ Tony repeats, feeling slightly sceptical. He isn’t that well-versed in the legends of the Sanctum, but do they have to make everything sound so vague and mysterious? ‘’What does that have to do with my question?’’

Stephen ignores it, however, a small smile decorating his pale face. It makes him look far healthier. ‘’It has everything to do with it, my prince. Yes, the Eye of Agamotto. Master Agamotto was a kind soul who couldn’t stand the misfortune of so many, and he thought of a way to spare the world of its misfortune. He asked a family to send one of their sons or daughters to him each day, as he planted himself next to an oak tree to listen to their echoes.’’

The sorcerer looks away for a moment, and Tony wonders what he heard in his echo. He’d known where to go, but he remembers Stephen tumbling through the portal, the alarm on his face - would someone have died, if he hadn’t appeared? What was he told, in that possible future?

‘’And so he just sat there, listening?’’

Stephen nods. ‘’Though of course, Time went much faster for him. It can’t have been more than a week that he sat there, listening to the future, but for a hundred years, the family came to Agamotto to recount their tales. One day, a young woman appeared to talk to him. She told him of their everyday pains, but also of the bigger issues - the disasters and the dooms. She kept coming back to him, her stories impacting him far more than any of the others’ had. Legend says her voice was as sweet as honey and her way of weaving words unparalleled - a magic by itself. Agamotto, as a consequence, fell in love.’’

‘’Just by listening to the echo of her future?’’ Tony asks, his brow creased. It would have been hard to imagine - falling in love, just by listening to someone talk. Not being able to say anything back or to see the one you care for. On the other hand - he could sit here forever to listen to Stephen’s quiet murmurs.

‘’Time is not linear, Tony. She talked and he listened in his past to her echoes. It’s a way of bending time - but unless you’re careful, time can snap. That’s a story for another time, however. Yes, Agamotto fell in love with her. After her death, he vowed to undo all the pain her family and she had endured, and marry her afterwards. He left the trance, delayed his own aging and strove to annihilate every issue the family had ever encountered. They were the happiest people alive.’’

‘’All’s well that ends well.’’ Tony tries not to sound too disbelieving as he says it. Things rarely turn out that well in reality, after all. People do not find the loves of their life and undo all of their pain. They cry their bitter tears and reflect miserably on the past. Not for a sorcerer, maybe.

Stephen is shaking his head, however, hushing him. 

‘’After a hundred years of assisting the family, he wondered where the woman who had spoken to him was. There were two daughters, but they were lazy and pig-headed, and they only ever saw Agamotto as their servant. Neither of them had the voice of the woman he’d fallen in love with - the woman he’d been waiting a hundred years for. She never appeared. Agamotto had changed the timeline so much that she had never been born. You see? Every tragedy that had ever befallen the family had been undone, and he’d failed to see that wonders occur together with wounds. That joy and sadness walk hand in hand. Forgotten there is a balance in all things. And this way, the family’s final member died after a hundred and twenty years. Agamotto buried the final one and then disappeared forever.’’

Tony mulls over it. This is the answer to his question and lesson to be learned - a lesson Stephen must know all too well already. The power he carries, it has consequences. Perhaps Tony should be glad that he wasn’t born with the milky eyes that a sorcerer child has. Wearing a crown, he’ll never know if he did the right thing or not, just that he tried. That is more of a comfort than knowing all the ways things could’ve turned out.

‘’What does it have to do with his Eye?’’ he asks eventually.

Stephen smiles. ‘’In keeping an eye on all the pain, he’d closed another eye to the joy. He was half-blind while trying to see all. Agamotto’s Eye - one closed, the other opened, leading to different things than one might hope for.’’

Tony nods quietly. ‘’One more question,’’ he says, leaning back in the chair. ‘’Why would anyone name their kid Agamotto?’’

Stephen’s sudden laughter does a lot to lift Tony’s spirits.

~*~

He is tired of being bedridden. He is tired of being useless and a cripple and he is mostly tired of his hands not working. Every slightest movement of his fingers makes him gnash his teeth in pain and frustration. How will he ever regain full control over his hands? How will he ever be a sorcerer, if he can’t even lift his little finger?

The royal nurse, Helen Cho, has agreed to let him out of the healing wing as soon as he can be released of the herbal concoctions she has brewed to decrease his pain. Stephen spends most of his days trying to get his fingers to cooperate, which mostly ends in pure agony. Not that he will give up - he has never given up. He isn’t the youngest Master in generations simply because of talent. It’s hard work and dedication.

Sometimes, he gets visitors. Tony, mostly, and sometimes Rhodes. Romanoff and Barton had also come to see him once, he’d been told, when he hadn’t woken up yet. Stephen doesn’t even want to know what he looks like, now. Tony tries to hide his pitying looks, but it’s glaringly obvious that his hands will be scarred forever. 

The nurse has been shaving him, so far, and Stephen had let her begrudgingly. It had been a minor matter, after all she’d already done to help him. Besides her and the visitors, there isn’t much company for him.

So he is rather surprised to see the Ancient One walking through the door, barely a week after his - well… accident.

There is relief and gratitude together with barely held-on anger and confusion upon seeing her. Stephen feels the storm of emotions hit too fast to make sense of any of them as he watches her approach and take the chair. The chair that Tony usually occupies. Her gaze rests on him - were her eyes always grey? No, they were blue. They _are_ blue. He just can’t see it anymore.

‘’Good afternoon, Stephen,’’ she says calmly. So collected. Stephen has always striven to be of the same air, and he’d succeeded, for a while. He thinks that all his efforts will be in vain now, just as mangled as his body is. 

After all, a healthy mind and a healthy body walk hand in hand, he’d been taught.

‘’You told me I was meant for more than one Aspect,’’ Stephen says, and has to take a deep breath to stop himself from trembling. ‘’You said that Space was the next step. And here I am, a Master of Space, and I wasn’t ready. I thought it’d take me _years_ to Master the next Aspect! I lost my hands and I lost blue. If this is the price I have to pay for my greediness, I don’t want it. I don’t want _any_ of it.’’

She remains silent for a few moments as Stephen just stares at her. Birds chirp outside and the sun comes in through the windows. The skies will always be grey to him, however, no matter what weather it is.

And he resents her for putting the idea in his head.

‘’Do you think you know everything simply because you are a Master?’’ the Ancient One asks eventually. ‘’Stephen, you took years to become Master of Time because I needed you to take years. Because I need every student of mine to take years, in order to appreciate the finesse of the Mystic Arts. You built up to your Test so that you would not fail it - so that the final step came as easily to you as breathing. But sometimes, Mastery isn’t so kind. Sometimes, you fall into a Test without knowing it. You are a Master of Space now as well - you know that. You can’t deny it, because you can’t see blue anymore, can you?’’

‘’But I’m not ready for this,’’ Stephen says. The world is far more different without blue. He’d been prepared to lose green - more than ready for it. He hadn’t been quite as prepared this time.

Her smile is kind. ‘’No one ever is,’’ she says. ‘’No one will ever be. I didn’t say your path would be easy, Master Strange. I only said you’re the only one who will be able to take it. Your gifts for the Mystic Arts are quite extraordinary.’’

It’s the first time Stephen isn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment or not.

‘’Who is Kaecilius?’’ he asks. He had wondered about it ever since he left the Sanctum. The more important questions are too painful to ask. How will he ever become Sorcerer Supreme, as she’d told him he’d be, if his hands don’t work?

She narrows her eyes at him. ‘’Mordo told you, didn’t he? I told him to stay out of the matter, but he disagrees with me. Stephen, there is one thing you must understand. You are a flexible student, able and headstrong. Mordo is just as stubborn, but he is rigid and unbending. It’s both his strength and his weakness. Kaecilius was a Master, years ago, who left the Sanctum. He was a skilled sorcerer, but ambitious beyond reality.’’

‘’Why have I never heard of him?’’

‘’Mordo called him greedy, did he not?’’ The Ancient One takes his silence as confirmation as she smiles sadly. ‘’You called yourself greedy just now, for Mastering another Aspect. Mordo does not understand the truth of this world, Stephen, nor your potential in it. For him, the world is black and white. For us, these are all just mere variations of grey.’’

A thought occurs to him. Something so very simple that he wonders how he did not think of it earlier. The Ancient One stares at him while Stephen narrows his eyes, trying to formulate what he needs to say. Wondering if he should. 

‘’You Mastered more Aspects,’’ he eventually says, as non-judgmentally as he can. ‘’It’s not just Time. Which ones?’’

‘’None of your business,’’ she says cheerfully. ‘’I’ve sufficient knowledge on all Aspects, though I’ll inform you that I haven’t Mastered all of them. I’m happy to keep it that way. I’ve learned to guess many colours, as will you. How many people know that you’ve Mastered Space?’’

Stephen takes a breath, feeling his hands tremble under the cover of his bed. Tony must have figured it out, by now. Perhaps Rhodes as well. ‘’No one has confirmed it, but I think the prince and one of his Knights of Virtue know,’’ he admits. ‘’This is enough, Master. Space is already one more Aspect than I thought I’d know.’’

‘’Perhaps,’’ the Ancient One readily agrees. Just from that, Stephen knows she’s going to convince him. She always does, and he sighs. Not today. She may have seen his fate and his future, but Time is always in motion. Her word does not equal truth, nor destiny. He is fully capable of taking his own path.

‘’Spit it out,’’ he says wearily. Her eye twinkles in delight.

‘’You’ve hurt your hands pretty badly,’’ she says, not even covering up the blandness of it. She never does. ‘’No matter how good she is at what she does, Helen Cho will never be able to heal you. Not fully. There is only one person who can.’’

‘’Let me guess,’’ Stephen mutters sarcastically. ‘’That’s you.’’

The Ancient One tilts her head. ‘’Not even in the slightest. It’s you. Master Strange, remind me of the uses of the Aspect of Mind, please?’’

‘’Mind is represented by yellow and is used mostly for the defence of Veston,’’ Stephen responds at once. ‘’A Master of Mind can read thoughts, to an extent, and influence general opinion in a way. Fully replacing thoughts is possible, as is infiltrating one’s mind, but something the sorcerers of the Sanctum will never condone in any way or shape and will lead to banishment. Another application of Mind is healing, which won’t help me, as Mind can only assist in mental illnesses.’’

‘’When healing another, certainly,’’ she agrees. ‘’However, the Mind can overrule the body at all times. Stephen, in practising Mind, you can control your own body to a degree you never could. We cannot command full authority of another’s brain, but you can train your own. If you Master Mind, your hands can return to what they were before. And _that_ is something worth looking into, wouldn’t you agree?’’

Stephen is silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. He doesn’t _need_ to be crippled. There is the possibility of him regaining all his former skills - Mind. He’d never even thought that it might work.

‘’You think that this is possible?’’ he asks, trying not to sound like the child she used to teach. ‘’If I learn Mind, I can - be myself again?’’

‘’You never stopped being yourself,’’ she says. The Ancient One isn’t necessarily a kind woman, Stephen knows - she is brutal and merciless and wise beyond measure. She always speaks her mind and will not hesitate to drag the truth out of the matter. 

It only makes Stephen readier to believe her. He doesn’t feel like himself as long as he lingers in this bed, but he might. He can.

He takes a deep breath. ‘’Is there any way,’’ he starts, ‘’I can learn Mind and control my hands without Mastering it?’’

The Ancient One tilts her head at her and rises from her chair. ‘’Well now, Master Strange. Do you really think you can master your body without Mastering Mind? I had no idea you were so fond of yellow.’’

‘’I’m losing an awful lot of colours this way,’’ Stephen says, and he can’t help the touch of annoyance in his voice.

She shrugs as she turns away. ‘’A small price for what you will do with your powers. I will be at the Sanctum if you have need of me, Master Strange. Though I am certain you will figure things out on your own - you always have.’’

He watches her leave, his mind spinning with possibilities. There is hope again, and it makes Stephen more willing than ever to leave.

~*~

The grass is cold to his bare feet. Loose blades stick to his toes with the dew, but Stephen just smiles at the grey matter. The reminder of the coming cold does something for his mood - it will be autumn soon. And autumn means that the leaves will turn orange, and he can see the colours of the trees once again.

For now, however, the world is mostly a dull grey. The gardens aren’t the best place for someone of his colourless vision. The sky is a stark light grey, though no clouds touch it. No more blue for him - and the sky doesn’t change with the seasons. 

He did what he was meant to do, however. Prince Anthony would have been dead, if Stephen hadn’t been able to come to his rescue. Not that he will ever tell the prince about it - he thinks Tony is well aware of the darkest of possibilities. And he’d rather never see the sky again than allow their prince to fall to the blade of his assassins.

The world makes for a joyless picture, however, without its colours. The walls have always been grey, but the grass and sky used to bring some brightness to the environment. Now he has lost green and blue, and he must lose yellow next. At least, he will if he wants his hands to stop trembling.

‘’Master Strange.’’ A familiar face comes into his view, a ready smile painted on the lips. The eyes have turned to a startling grey - the only reason Stephen realizes they were blue before. 

‘’Knight Barton,’’ he returns pleasantly as the Knight of Vice nods a greeting.

Barton grins. ‘’You’d best not use that title in public. Hey, I haven’t seen you around in a while. Healer Cho finally released you, huh?’’

‘’She did,’’ Stephen confirms. It had been a few days since the Ancient One had visited, and he’d worked relentlessly on getting better. He’d even started working a little on Mind, but that took a while longer. Mind is a tricky Aspect to control, especially for someone who isn’t left alone for enough time to enjoy a decent meditation.

‘’Glad to see you back on your feet,’’ Barton says and he sounds genuine. ‘’That was some pretty worrying stuff you did there. You should’ve seen prince Anthony’s face when you passed out. I mean, I only got there after the fight was already done, but judging by his expression, I thought someone had died. You really saved the day.’’

‘’Protecting the prince’s life is the reason I am here,’’ Stephen says dryly. He’d rather not focus on what happened to him or his still trembling hands - or how worried Tony was after the fight. ‘’Protecting Veston is my duty as a sorcerer.’’

Barton glances at him. ‘’It’s not the only way to help the world, you know. Knight Rhodes told me how you came in with the portal and what you - said, afterwards. About blue.’’

There is no beating around the bush, in that case. ‘’And I’d appreciate it if that could be kept between us,’’ Stephen sighs. ‘’It’s not really the done thing. I’d like to keep it under wraps.’’

‘’I’m a Knight of Vice, I know how to keep secrets.’’ Barton straightens himself. ‘’Look, Strange. Just be careful not to stretch yourself out too much, right? You’re valuable to Veston and personally, I think you’re a good guy. We can use someone like you - especially with this threat on the lure and the prince being the stubborn ass he is. There’s more than one way of being useful, and being a sorcerer doesn’t mean everything.’’

Stephen thinks of the books on the Mystic Arts that are accumulating on his night desk, taken from the library. He thinks about Mastering the Aspect of Mind, and gaining use of his hands again. He can’t even wave at someone he knows without feeling excruciating pain, now, and he appreciates Barton’s concern.

He isn’t sure where the concern comes from, however.

‘’You told me you were in Kamar-Taj in your youth,’’ he starts, uncertain if Barton will let him ask the question. The Knight of Vice remains quiet, however, so he continues. ‘’Why did you decide to quit? Why did you want to serve the kingdom in other ways?’’

Barton nods slowly, contemplating. ‘’I know one of your secrets, so I guess you knowing one of mine would make it even. I’m partly deaf, Strange. Can’t hear shit with my left ear. The Ancient One convinced me that it didn’t make me any less of a sorcerer, but then I had to pick a specialisation. And all I could think of was that there was something else I had to lose. I didn’t want to. I was a good fighter and an even better archer, so she made sure I could come here.’’

‘’You decided that it wasn’t worth the price,’’ Stephen says. Part of him, the younger version, is sceptical. Losing a colour means nothing, considering the things they gain in the process. The part of him that laments never seeing the sky again - that part understands. 

Barton will always keep his full vision. As an archer, he needs to. As a sorcerer, he would’ve had to give it up - together with his skill with the bow, presumably. Part of it, at least. And Stephen can appreciate it. Barton makes for a good Knight of Vice, at any rate.

‘’I still don’t think it is,’’ Barton says. ‘’Not for me. I’m not really the kind of guy the sorcerers want, anyway. You should’ve seen some of the Masters glare at me. Definitely wouldn’t want to wear those impractical cloaks every day.’’

Stephen laughs. Barton just grins in return, shrugging as he shifts on his toes. Stephen just shakes his head at the archer. ‘’Well, I think we would’ve been lucky to have you,’’ he admits. ‘’But perhaps this is the better place for you.’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Barton says, and his eyes are fixed on the Palace. ‘’Yes, I think it is.’’

Stephen doesn’t ask any further.

~*~

‘’There are many arrangements to be made,’’ Howard says, and the fact that he doesn’t even send Tony a glance says enough about the importance of the prince at this event. ‘’Caterers, flowers, invitations. I’m letting Potts take care of it all, of course, but the Palace will be buzzing with suitors.’’

‘’I’m not marrying anyone,’’ Tony says, even as Friday offers him a pitying shrug from where she’s standing ready with the wine. 

Howard’s private working rooms are never private. One maid is scurrying around to clean the place, while Friday and one of the other maids - Tony thinks her name is May - are standing at the ready with any beverages or snacks the King might want.

‘’I’ve talked it over with Obadiah,’’ Howard continues, as if Tony hasn’t said a word. ‘’There are already some confirmations from some prestigious families in the south. One of the attendants will be a girl about your age. Ever heard of Christine Everhart, Anthony? I’ve been told she’s quite smart and diligent. Good qualities for a princess and future Queen.’’

Tony couldn’t have hoped for anything else from Obadiah. As much as he considers the man his family, there are some things that will never change. All he could expect is for Obi to pick out someone he thought would suit Tony, but definitely not to go against the King.

‘’I’m not marrying anyone,’’ he repeats forcefully. ‘’This problem won’t go away just by giving me a wife, Father. Someone tried to kill me - they almost killed Master Strange! Having _children_ isn’t the solution!’’

‘’Having children is the _long-term_ solution,’’ Howard says, and this time he does look up. His eyebrows aren’t as thick as they used to be, now he’s older, but they’re just as stern as when Tony was a kid. ‘’We are dealing with what is happening, Anthony. And as for Master Strange - protecting you is the reason he is here. I’m glad to see he’s actually being _useful_ now.’’

‘’You call almost dying and being scarred for life being useful?’’ Tony demands, feeling the rage build up. He can’t believe his father, sometimes - he didn’t use to be like this. He never was particularly affectionate, but he used to take Tony down to the forge and show him how to create a sword. He used to care about his partners and the civilians. 

Howard makes a dismissive noise as he scribbles down something. ‘’The injury isn’t particularly useful, no. Perhaps the Ancient One wants to bully me into taking yet another one of her newly-gained Masters. I have half a mind to tell her where to shove the next one.’’

Tony exhales, counting to five mentally. He can’t fight Howard on everything - he doesn’t have the patience for it. Debating on the Sorcerer Supreme is never a good idea, and he will just have to pick his battles.

‘’Tell me this,’’ he says, trying to regain his calmness. ‘’How are we dealing with the assassin problem? Someone is setting up Skoltia, but we still don’t know where the threat comes from. Are we to just assume -’’

‘’Obadiah is on it, Anthony, and this is the last I’ll hear of it,’’ Howard snaps. ‘’All I want to hear out of you is which girl you pick to be your wife. The ball will be in a fortnight, and I can’t even remember the last day I saw you in a formal outfit.’’

Tony remembers. The Feast of the Sun, a few months back. It had been when he’d barely known Stephen - that awkward dinner where the sorcerer had questioned Tony’s willingness to be a good King and where Tony had slipped up and talked about Maria. The start of something there, if he looks back on it.

‘’Yes, Father,’’ he says. Friday makes a face at him as he slips out, and he offers her a quiet smile. She’s a smart and witty woman - one of his favourite maids. She can’t make the King listen to anyone, however. There’s no one around who can anymore, perhaps barring Obadiah. 

Rhodey is waiting for him on the other side. His sword hangs by his side - ever since the attack, his friend refuses to walk around unarmed. Tony wishes he could tell him it was unnecessary, but that would be a plain lie. And after what happened to Stephen, Tony doesn’t think he can bear someone else getting injured on his account.

‘’What did he say?’’ he asks.

Tony shrugs. ‘’The same as usual.’’

It’s enough. Rhodey goes for a one-armed embrace, and Tony lets him. There’s really nothing easy about his life anymore. There hasn’t been for a while now. At least he still has his friend.

It’s starting to feel like that’s all he has.


	7. Yellow / II

Stephen’s room isn’t locked - he doesn’t think that’s really necessary. He’s spread a meditation mat out on the floor. It’s starting to show how he mostly sits, which can only be a good thing. He breathes in and out, eyes closed. As long as he doesn’t have to see, he won’t have to notice that he’s missing an extra colour.

Mind is an odd Aspect. Mastering it, Stephen knows, isn’t an easy job. Most Aspects just require a lot of practice to gain skill, but Mind isn’t like that. Mind isn’t about experience but about control - self-control, mostly. In order to hear other minds, to influence them, one needs to be in absolute control in their own minds. There is no other way. 

That is why meditation is an important part in Mastering Mind. 

The door creaks. Stephen breathes out and listens as it fully opens - listens to the hesitant footsteps entering. He can just feel the gaze burning on his face, the questions and the underlying uncertainty that asking questions is even a good idea.

‘’How can I help you?’’ he says, keeping his eyes closed. He can feel his hands trembling on his knees - they won’t keep still, even when he is asking so little of them. 

It’s Tony’s voice that answers. ‘’Why is your sword lying on the ground?’’

The sword, yes. The sword that Tony had given him the day before the rode to the Sanctum, and that Stephen hadn’t ever used, so far. It had remained on his back, ready to attack - except he hadn’t had the chance to take it out when fighting the assassins. It all had gone too fast and he’d been too stunned by losing blue.

The sword that he can’t grasp anymore, now. His hands shake too much when he tries, and he drops it to the ground. Stephen wants to be able to hold it again - it’s one of his few possessions, and the only one he can’t take anymore. It was a gift from Tony, one that he treasures. He will not lose his ability to take it - he won’t.

He had laid it out before him on the floor, to see if he could take it without dropping it when he’d meditated a bit longer and calmed down. It might have been more useful to lay down something else, but the sword is one of the few things that Stephen really cares about holding.

‘’It’s a sorcerer thing,’’ he just says, and opens his eyes. 

Tony stands before him. His tunic is a dull grey, and Stephen wonders if it’s blue or green. Or is it actually grey? He doesn’t think so, but he hates that he can’t tell anymore. A yellow hue is part of the decorations on his chest, and if he masters Mind, he won’t be able to see that, either.

This is the path that he must take, Stephen reminds himself, no matter how many colours he loses. This is what he must do to regain the use of his hands and protect the prince.

‘’Right,’’ Tony says, and sits down on the chair behind Stephen’s desk. ‘’I wanted to ask if you - well - it’s not that I can’t - oh. Never mind. I should probably just leave.’’

He looks tired and oddly defeated, and Stephen hasn’t seen him like this before. Tired, yes, but there is always a mad energy about their prince. It increases when he is in the forge and it disappears when he’s dealing with the derangement of life at court.

‘’You can ask me whatever you want, my prince,’’ Stephen says quietly, as he smoothly rises from his sitting position. His hands are trembling less than they were before, he thinks - maybe the meditation did work, if only a bit.

Tony just shrugs, not looking at him. ‘’I thought I’d told you to call me Tony.’’

‘’When we were in private. We are still in the Palace, my prince, and I should show you proper respect. Even if we are friends.’’

He looks up, at that. ‘’We’re friends?’’

Stephen allows himself a small smile. ‘’I would like to think so. And as a friend, I would like for you to tell me what you wanted to ask me. I might not be able to help, but isn’t it worth a try?’’

‘’I just can’t sleep,’’ Tony blurts out, and leans against the desk. ‘’I don’t manage more than two or three hours a night, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m falling asleep everywhere and then Rhodey has to wake me up because I’m supposed to lead a council meeting or discuss contingencies. But there’s always someone near me now, and I’m supposed to be vigil for any attacks. I went to healer Cho, and I tried some potions, but nothing works.’’

‘’And you want to know if there are any sorcerer tricks that could help,’’ Stephen concludes. It’s not difficult to guess, even as Tony grimaces and looks away again. Asking for help is certainly not the prince’s strongest suit, and Stephen wonders if Rhodes forced him to come here. It sounds like the Knight of Virtue, certainly. On the other hand, he is flattered that Tony would even come to him for help.

Stephen doesn’t know any tricks for helping with sleep. Time or Space will not have much use with that kind of problem, and he wants to apologize to Tony, but then he remembers -

He isn’t a Master in Mind, but Mind is the only Aspect that might be able to help. He’d told himself he’d only use it to regain control of his own body, but if he can help Tony - well, that’s only an added benefit, certainly? If he can influence Tony’s mind so that he will sleep peacefully, that’s only a good thing.

He’s not certain he’s anywhere near the level that is required for something like that, but he owes it to Tony to try, at least.

‘’There might be a way I can help,’’ he says slowly, his brain working at full speed to consider how he might go about this. ‘’I can’t be certain that it’ll help, but I can try, if you want me to.’’

Tony visibly perks up at that. ‘’What do I need to do?’’ he asks. The lack of rest has obviously been bothering him immensely, judging by the way he’s ready to be rid of his lack of sleep. Stephen worries a bit, but hopefully he’ll be able to assist soon.

‘’I’ll come to your chambers when you’re ready to retire,’’ he answers. ‘’I will need to be there in order to help you sleep.’’

The prince just nods. ‘’Thank you,’’ he says sincerely. ‘’I’ll send a maid for you when I go to bed. I’m just - well, thanks. I probably need to get back now. And you can continue your sorcerer stuff.’’

‘’I’ll see you tonight,’’ Stephen promises, and feels himself grow a little pinker when Tony smirks at him before he leaves. The door falls shut on his way out, and Stephen lowers himself to his mat again.

There is nothing wrong about what he is going to do. He is going to assist their prince, the man who will be King one day, and whom Stephen has sworn to serve and protect. There is nothing going on, and there never will be.

He closes his eyes, and focuses on calming himself again. It takes a little while longer, this time.

~*~

The plate appears on top of his papers before Tony even has the time to notice the fact that someone’s in his room. 

‘’You keep insisting on keeping me fed,’’ Tony says with some chagrin, laying down the agreement he was reading before and tilting his head at Obadiah. ‘’You don’t seem to have noticed that I’ll soon be dead, anyway. It seems like a useless enterprise.’’

‘’Don’t be so gloomy,’’ Obi says, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. ‘’Your man Hogan almost refused to let me in. Me, the King’s right hand! If you think any assassin will ever come near you again, you are sorely mistaken, my boy. I’ll keep making sure that you are fed properly no matter how stubbornly you refuse.’’

Tony sighs and moves around some of the food as he takes the accompanying fork. It smells wonderful - all spicy and rich. After only a moment’s hesitation, he takes the first bite, and Obadiah pats his shoulder.

‘’So you’re the person who keeps making sure I get meals?’’ Tony says, swallowing the food. It tastes even better than it smelled. ‘’For some reason, I thought Rhodey was behind that. He’s been following me like a hound.’’

‘’That’s his job,’’ Obadiah says, and half-sits on his desk as he regards Tony attentively. ‘’My job, however, is to make sure all royals are happy and remain in one piece. You are very important to me, Tony, so yes, I have arranged for meals to be delivered to you for a few months now. Ever since you stopped attending even the most casual of dinners.’’

Months - has it really been that long? Well, some time has passed since they first became aware of the threats. Even Stephen has been here for quite some time already, so yes, months it is. Tony hadn’t realized how much he’d holed himself up ever since then.

‘’Sorry,’’ he mutters. Obadiah cares about him, more than his father ever will. They hadn’t spoken as much as they used to in the last couple of months. Tony blames himself, and he’s certain Obi misses him. The old man has always been there for him.

Obi smiles gently and Tony takes another bite. ‘’It’s not me you need to apologize to, Tony,’’ the man says. ‘’There’s a whole kingdom out there that depends on you taking care of yourself. I’m the one who is dealing with the assassin, and rest assured, we’ll catch the evildoers. There will be war with Skoltia, if need be. Anything to convince that scum that Veston is not so easily defeated.’’

Tony almost falls asleep with his head in the dish before, but he sits up straighter at Obadiah’s last words.

‘’War with Skoltia?’’ he repeats dumbfoundedly. ‘’But the assassins aren’t Skoltian.’’

Obadiah sharpens his eyes at him, and Tony is reminded of how cunning his father’s right hand can be. It explains why the two men get along so well, in any case.

‘’And what makes you say so?’’ Obi says pleasantly, but Tony is well aware of the undertone. And as much as he cares for the advisor, Obadiah Stane isn’t a man to play games with. He’s stubborn as a mule, as everyone in court is, and anyone opposing him needs to be careful of their steps.

He can’t tell him that Pepper figured it out. She might get an unwanted visit, and he’d rather spare her an interrogation. Obi can be vicious when he’s mad. Tony sits back, thoughts whirring through his mind.

‘’There were signs,’’ he says in haste. ‘’You know, hints and stuff. Details, so to say. Easy to miss, of course, but nonetheless present during the attack. Did you know that you notice so much more during a fight? All that adrenaline, I bet. So there were signs, and I’m telling you, Obi, no Skoltians were anywhere around during that time. They were -’’

‘’Skoltians,’’ Obadiah finishes forcefully. ‘’There were no _signs_ , Anthony. You are rambling like a child! Wherever did you get the idea that your attackers were anything but from Skoltia, the only enemy we have on this continent? Where else do you think they came from?’’

‘’I don’t know, but -’’

‘’Asgard, maybe? The power of their _seidr_ equals our sorcerers’ capabilities, they say. But Asgard doesn’t interfere with any other country, high and mighty as they are. Menteri? I doubt they’re eager to jeopardize their new-found alliance with us, don’t you? Perhaps you want to incriminate Skida, our oldest and most trustworthy ally since the start of our own kingdom? Who do you think is after your death, boy?’’

‘’All I know is that it’s not Skoltia,’’ Tony says in frustration. ‘’Look, you have to trust me.’’

‘’You need to get your mind right,’’ Obadiah returns, shaking his head at him as he pulls himself away from the wall and takes Tony by the shoulders. ‘’This attack obviously had an impact on you, Tony. You’re not being yourself - you’ve barely been in the forge for days, and I know that you’re not sleeping right.’’

‘’Who told you that?’’

Obadiah talks over him again. ‘’It’s alright that this influenced you, but you can’t go around spouting nonsense like that. This court, the nobles, we all know that it’s Skoltia who is attacking us right now. We can’t sow discord and make our people distrust our allies. Just let me handle this, and I promise it will be over as soon as possible.’’

‘’Alright,’’ Tony says, and rises from his chair to pull away from Obadiah. His fork falls down on his half-eaten plate, and the sound echoes in the room. ‘’Fine. I’ll stay away.’’

The man looks at him, his eyes creasing in concern. ‘’I’m just trying to do the best for you, Tony, the best for the _kingdom_. You need to lay low and let your father and me handle everything for a while. You were looking at the trade negotiations with Menteri, were you not? I can handle that for you.’’

It seems that he’s being downgraded to nothing but a pawn in the kingdom, this time. Stripped of all use. Once again, Tony is just a man with a title and nothing more. Bitterly, he stacks up the documents and hands them over. There is no winning from Obadiah, and frankly, he’s tired of arguing. Tired of dealing with the same pig-headed men and not being listened to.

Maybe he is too exhausted to think clearly. Only a few weeks ago, he would have fought for his use within Veston. Even if he hadn’t liked all sides of it, Tony is wildly aware he has duties to perform - important duties, things that need to be done and decided. What if he has become too tired to think things through properly? Maybe Obadiah has a point.

There is no way that Pepper isn’t on top of her game, however. If there is one thing in the world that Tony can rely on, it’s for Pepper to be reliable and trustworthy, and always find the right angle.

He just nods. ‘’I’m just going to sleep,’’ he says, and so as to emphasize his point, blows out the candle burning on the desk. A few others remain alight, but Obadiah just nods and moves towards the door.

‘’Good night, Tony,’’ the man rumbles, and the door clicks shut behind him. Tony sighs and rubs his eyes, eyeing the half-finished dish that still remains on his desk. Just because of this argument, he lost all appetite. He’s not even feeling tired, anymore, though he hopes that the weariness will return soon - he’ll need it.

He doesn’t relish another sleepless night. He really does hope that Stephen can help, as hesitant as Tony had been to ask him for help. After all, Stephen has his own issues to sort out. Just because he was brought here for Tony doesn’t necessarily mean that he is a priority to the sorcerer.

Stephen hadn’t seemed bothered by Tony’s request, though. He hadn’t even seem overly perturbed by his injury at all, anymore. He wonders what happened to lift his mood so substantially.

Shaking his head to himself, he opens up the door. Happy is still standing beside it, always vigilant. He might be the only one who takes his job this seriously, and Tony adores him for it. Rhodey is his best friend, but there are few people as loyal as Happy.

‘’My prince?’’ the Knight of Virtue says, the question obvious from his tone.

Tony offers a short smile and peers into the hallway. A slim figure passes by, long brown hair in a messy bun. She’s not one of the maids that are usually assigned to him, but he recognizes her nonetheless.

‘’Miss May!’’ he calls out, and she almost trips over as she turns to him, her eyes wide as she hears her name.

‘’Yes, my prince?’’ she says, and pulls at her long skirt as she comes closer. Happy just stares at him with some puzzlement before staring back at her, seemingly uncomfortable.

‘’Are you still on duty?’’ Tony asks, and continues when she nods. ‘’Alright - can you find me Master Strange? I need to see him, and he’ll know what it’s about. I think he’ll be in his private rooms - do you know where those are?’’

‘’Yes, my prince. I’ll find him.’’

She disappears around the corner immediately. Happy turns to him, frowning. ‘’What do you need the sorcerer for?’’

‘’Just a thing,’’ Tony says vaguely. ‘’Just let him in when he gets here, alright? Hey, do you know May very well?’’

‘’What is ‘well’?’’ Happy says, a flush appearing in his neck and shooting up to his cheeks. ‘’I mean, I’ve seen her around, and I’ve talked to her a little - she’s a friend of Pepper, you know, and of Friday. I think she’s a really good maid - not that that defines her value, but she’s driven and a hard worker, and I just admire that dedication. Not admire as in that I watch her often, but -’’

‘’Right,’’ Tony says, and he can’t help but grin. ‘’Here’s a tip, buddy: ask her out next time.’’

‘’I will,’’ the Knight says, and his flush deepens. ‘’I mean, I won’t - that wouldn’t be appropriate! I’m your security, and she’s -’’

‘’Don’t forget to let Stephen in when he gets here!’’ Tony calls out before he disappears into his room again. He stands against the door a little while, hearing Happy shuffle and mutter something under his breath. For a moment, he wonders if Happy will come in to tell him all the reasons it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t, and the indignant murmuring fades out eventually.

The privacy of his bedchambers is maybe a bit too much, now that there’s no work on his desk and no one to talk to. Tony sits on his bed and runs his fingers over the soft sheets. He has one of the best rooms in all of the Palace, with luxurious scented candles and soft pillows and the most beautiful potted flowers in the corners, and yet he wishes he were anywhere but here. He wishes he was in a bed he could sleep in.

He sighs and undresses, though he hesitates about what to wear to bed. He doesn’t wear anything, usually - and though Stephen has seen him naked in the Sanctum, Tony doubts going nude is a good idea. It would be awkward at best.

There’s some silk pants he can wear and a shirt that’s old and comfortable enough to sleep in, so he picks that instead. It’s odd to even have to think about it. Tony is not new to visitors to his personal rooms, even if he’d always been discreet about it, but Stephen isn’t here for that.

He doesn’t even know why his thoughts wandered that way. He can picture Stephen in the baths in the Sanctum, his chest smooth and naked and wet, and then he imagines the sorcerer brushing his long fingers over Tony’s arm -

A knock disturbs him, and he’s gladder for the interruption than ever. Taking a breath to compose himself, he goes to answer the door. Happy is standing a few feet away, though he glances at him when the door opens. Stephen is mostly in the way of the Knight’s glare, however, all appropriately dressed with his black tunic and red cloak.

Tony shouldn’t be thinking about that bath anymore. He really should stop.

‘’Good evening, my prince,’’ Stephen says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as his voice rumbles. Tony should stop thinking about that bath _right now_ , if he cares about his sanity.

‘’Master Strange,’’ Tony says, inclining his head as he is internally forever grateful that his voice holds. He opens the door a bit further, allowing the sorcerer to step in. The door falls shut behind him, and then it’s just the two of them.

‘’You still haven’t been able to sleep, I assume?’’ 

Tony rubs his hands, not sure about what to do next. Should he just go lie down? Should he ask Stephen what he’s planning on doing? This isn’t one of the discreet men or women that he’d pulled away from the crowd - this is a sorcerer, here to help him with a problem. This is strictly professional.

‘’Haven’t had the time,’’ he confesses, shrugging. ‘’I _am_ a busy person, you know. They don’t give out crown prince titles to every guy strolling around the Palace grounds. I need to actually do stuff. Unlike others, I can’t sit around on a mat all day and daydream.’’

Stephen grins. ‘’Well, unlike others, sitting around on a mat and daydreaming will hopefully help me to fix your issue. Now, I’m aware that you might not like to talk about this, but I need to know the exact reason why you can’t sleep. Is it the problem of not falling asleep, or not _staying_ asleep?’’

He regards Tony carefully and neutrally, not letting any emotion seep through. Tony slowly nods, as if to convince himself to talk about it. He doesn’t like talking about this, that’s why he had trouble asking Stephen to help. But Stephen can’t help unless he knows what the problem is, and Tony has already gotten this far.

‘’Staying asleep,’’ he mutters.

‘’Nightmares?’’ Again, there is nothing on Stephen’s face to express what he might think about that. Tony feels a stab of something in his chest, thinking about this. The heir of Veston, future King - incapacitated by dreams.

‘’Nightmares,’’ he confirms. 

‘’What are your nightmares about?’’

Tony shrugs. ‘’I can’t always fully remember. I just remember the feeling of dread, of feeling haunted. I think my mom’s in there a lot, too, and my father. There’s a lot of different things, though. There’s some weird stuff in there as well.’’

Stephen nods slowly. ‘’Alright. Are you - well, ready to retire? I should tell you, there is no guarantee this will work. If it does, I might be able to see things you don’t want me to see - parts of your nightmare, parts of your thoughts. Nothing concrete, but certainly hints. I need to influence a part of your mind to steer you away from anything that troubles your sleep, so I need to be watching.’’

Tony looks at him for a while. ‘’You’re learning Mind?’’ he eventually asks. This kind of thing - it’s not Time and it’s not Space. He is no expert on the Aspects, but this all seems obvious enough. And, for the life of him, Tony can’t understand why Stephen is learning yet another Aspect when losing the second one did him so much harm.

‘’I have spent all day meditating to make sure I was up to this, Tony,’’ Stephen says, crossing his arms. ‘’I know I am no Master, but I am skilled enough to know what I’m doing. And if anything seems to be going wrong, I’ll withdraw at once.’’

‘’That’s not what I’m talking about,’’ Tony snaps. ‘’I’m talking about the fact you already Mastered Space, as well! I know about that, Stephen! You are free to do whatever you want with your Aspects, but Mastering Space actively hurt you, in as far as I’m aware. Why are you even trying to learn another Aspect?’’

Stephen shakes his head at him. ‘’I have my reasons,’’ he says, and his voice remains calm. Tony wishes he would shout back and tell him what he is thinking, because Tony can’t figure it out. Why are two Aspects not enough?

‘’But you’re -’’

‘’I am learning Mind, whether you want me to or not,’’ Stephen says, and the decisiveness rings through the room. ‘’I have spent all day to make sure I am prepared enough to help you, even, and I think I can. So you can either refuse to let me help for your own ill-conceived reasons, or you can lie down and let me help you get rid of your nightmares.’’

There is no swaying the sorcerer, Tony can see that. Besides, he trusts Stephen - if he says that there is a good chance he can help, Tony believes in that. Having a full night’s sleep is unthinkable, at this point, and he needs to be better rested in order to continue functioning.

‘’Alright,’’ he says, though he still feels a bit troubled. ‘’Look - uh, you watching me try to sleep might be a bit uncomfortable. Can’t you - I don’t know. Turn away? Did you eat yet? Because there’s some dinner left on my desk, and it’s a bit cold now, but it’s still good. If you want something else, there’s -’’

‘’I’m fine,’’ Stephen cuts him off, amusement colouring his eyes bright. ‘’Though perhaps I might take you up on that dinner. I haven’t had the time for a proper meal today. Lie down and fall asleep, and I will assist you when you are.’’

Tony does so. The covers rustle as he pulls them over his body, and he lies on his side, facing away from the sorcerer. Closing his eyes, he listens to Stephen take a book from the shelf and turn the pages. The chair scrapes over the ground a bit and he can hear the soft clings of the fork as it touches the plate. 

Before he knows it, he’s fallen asleep.

~*~

It’s much like a wake, in a way. Stephen is reminded of his first night in the Palace, when he’d been so bitter about his placement. He’d stayed awake all night, like he would have if he’d gone to the Sanctum.

Tony mumbles something in his sleep, and Stephen turns to watch him before returning to the opened book in front of him.

It’s a chronology of all of Veston’s monarchs and their many deeds. The first few tales are just myths, and Stephen is mostly fond of those. The tale of Veston’s first royal is depicted before him: the Queen, nameless yet esteemed in their histories, both Sorcerer Supreme as well as Veston’s monarch. In the acrylic picture, each of her hands placed on the heads of her sons. Sickly, they’d been, the story goes, until she had given them life and thus died herself. In some versions, mostly told in Kamar-Taj, she was a Master of Soul - the only one to have ever existed, giving her own life and pouring it into her beloved children. It used to be Stephen’s favourite myth, as a child, fascinated as he’d been with achieving the unachievable, until he’d rationally decided that he’d rather become the best at something that could actually be done.

He keeps his awareness focused on Tony, though his fingers linger on the picture in the manuscript, lazily tracing the figure of the second son who’d become the first Sorcerer Supreme. The myth doesn’t need to be read in order for him to recall all its details, and so he can just keep himself wandering in thought. He is using Mind to continuously check on Tony’s slumber, so he will be immediately in the know if something changes. So far, a few hours have passed without much trouble. 

Stephen wonders if Happy Hogan is still at the door, or if he’s been released. If the Knight wonders why Stephen has been here for hours. If there’ll be rumours. This is court, after all, and he’d known when he agreed to this that some people might talk. But people rarely do anything but talk.

A tug at his subconscious draws Stephen back to the man in the bed. To the naked eye, nothing is going on. Tony looks peaceful in his sleep - his hair is tussled, his mouth a bit open, and he’s clutching at the pillow. It’s such a difference from the lively prince.

But there is something disturbing going on in his mind. Stephen puts back the now-emptied plate on the desk and closes the book before he rises. Tony mutters something again, too low and soft for him to hear.

Stephen kneels next to him. Tony scrunches his nose in his sleep, and Stephen lays a cold hand on the prince’s warm one as he concentrates.

Flashes of colour appear before his eyes - green and blue are among them again. This is Tony’s mind, after all, and he can see. Dark blue eyes in a woman’s face stare at him, as she gasps for breath. The King sits beside her, laughing and laughing.

There is a piano, and it breaks. And Stephen can feel Tony, in his dream, start to run and run and run.

Taking a deep breath, Stephen focuses on the piano. The dream halts in surprise, and a wordless question appears in Stephen’s mind - or is it Tony’s? They are connected now, even if it is Stephen who is breaking and entering in Tony’s mind. 

_I am fixing things_ , Stephen tells the dream, and rebuilds the piano. Piece by piece, it comes together. And the dream stops running and comes back, as Tony forgets he was haunted in the first place. So Stephen builds, and when the piano is done, he pictures the woman that he just saw behind it. Queen Maria plays a quiet song that he has never heard.

That is a good thing. Stephen started fixing the dream, but Tony is finishing it. King Howard appears next to the Queen, a hand on her shoulder as he hums along. They are all younger, and the nightmare settles in something peaceful again. Something worth dreaming about.

Stephen draws back and opens his eyes, wondering when he’d closed them. Tony is still lying in the bed, breathing in and out in a controlled pace. He will sleep on, for now, but the dream might change yet again. Stephen settles in, taking his cloak off and using it as a blanket as he leans against the drawer. 

He will stay here all night, if he needs to. If this is how he has to protect the prince now, he’ll gladly do it. 

He listens to Tony’s regular breathing, and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I'll certainly try to maintain as regular a schedule as I can manage. The world is a hectic place right now, and closing down university isn't actually reducing my workload as much as it is doubling it, as well as stressing me out. You'd assume a quarantaine would give you more time to write instead of less, right? Anyway, the majority of this story is written, with only the final two parts left for me to finish. Hopefully, I'll manage to get to it sooner rather than later! For the time being - I hope everyone's still doing good, despite the world-wide crisis. Stay safe and see you next time.


	8. Yellow / III

‘’Stephen. Stephen!’’

Tony watches as the sorcerer’s eyes flutter open. At first, the man seems confused about where he is, but the realization dawns within seconds. 

‘’Don’t tell me I fell asleep,’’ Stephen groans, and leans back his head against Tony’s night drawer. ‘’What time is it?’’

‘’Morning,’’ Tony says cheerfully. He can’t even be angry that Stephen, supposedly, fell asleep on the job. After all, it was a job well done. There’s still some residing exhaustion, and Tony really wouldn’t mind sleeping some more, but he slept the full night. 

‘’How did you sleep?’’ Stephen asks, standing up awkwardly. He stretches his arms, and Tony can’t imagine that he slept very comfortably on the floor.

Tony can’t stop grinning, though. ‘’Best sleep I ever had,’’ he says. ‘’I don’t think _you_ did, though. Did I even get any nightmares? I can’t remember anything.’’

‘’Just the one,’’ Stephen says absent-mindedly, putting on his cloak again. ‘’About your mother.’’

And just like that, Tony freezes again. As much as he likes feeling rested again, he doesn’t know how to feel about Stephen seeing his nightmares. The sorcerer has been privy to things that Tony doesn’t share with anyone - something that is solely his own.

‘’Right,’’ he says, and falls silent. He should probably get dressed himself, but this is weird. Here is Stephen Strange, a Master of the Sanctum, half-dressed and his appearance tousled. Tony isn’t much better off.

‘’I should practice more,’’ Stephen breaks the silence, rubbing his eyes in some annoyance. ‘’I thought I’d balanced my own Mind well enough to deal with yours for a night, but I had some nightmares of my own. Mastering Mind will not be possible if I cannot even keep my own thoughts orderly. I’m glad it worked for you, however - it means there is something that can help you, at least.’’

Tony nods. ‘’What did you dream about?’’ he asks. ‘’I mean, you know mine.’’

‘’Fair is fair,’’ Stephen says, and smiles even as he straightens his pants. ‘’I’m aware dreams are a personal affair, Tony. I promise, I wouldn’t have meddled if you hadn’t asked me to. And I will never use any knowledge against you.’’

‘’You know more about this than anyone else in the world,’’ Tony says. ‘’And I know so little about you in return. C’mon. Tell me something.’’

He doesn’t know why this matters so much. Stephen has a right to his privacy, and it’s not like he invaded Tony’s. He was invited in, and his dreams are none of Tony’s business. He just wants - well, what does he want? To know something more about the elusive sorcerer that he’s befriended? To be even, in a way?

Stephen just sighs. ‘’I dreamt of my childhood home,’’ he says quietly. ‘’Children are only taken to Kamar-Taj for their training when they are about five or six years old. My memories of my parents are vague, but I remember my sister. I dreamt of her, and I saw her drown. I tried to save her, but with my hands - well. I couldn’t.’’

‘’Where did you come from, originally?’’ Tony asks. He hadn’t even thought about how children were taken to Kamar-Taj for training at such a young age. He’d just known they were born with milky eyes, blind to the world, until they - often accidentally - cast their first spell. There had been no thoughts whatsoever on what happened afterwards - the years between being born and being sent to Kamar-Taj.

Stephen sits on Tony’s bed. Tony doesn’t think about how good he looks, on the scarlet covers, complementing his pale skin and his lighter cloak. There is something about Stephen - maybe the reason that Tony had never thought of him belonging anywhere but right where he stood. Stephen doesn’t look like an ordinary human, but as if he is something more. He belongs everywhere and nowhere at the same time, as timeless as he is.

‘’It’s a small town somewhere to the south,’’ Stephen tells him. ‘’I doubt you’ve ever heard of it. Its name is Dosham, and I don’t think any more than a couple of hundred people live there. Mostly farmers and woodcutters. It had been decades since the last time a sorcerer was born there, and all I remember is that my parents weren’t as excited as the other inhabitants. I didn’t think about it - didn’t think about the fact they had to give me up. But my sister - she cried tears and tears when I left. That’s all I truly remember.’’

‘’What was her name?’’ Tony asks, sitting down next to him. A bit too close, maybe, but Stephen looks like he might need the comfort. He is just staring at his scarred hands, trembling on his lap.

Stephen looks up, nodding to himself. ‘’Donna. I almost forgot, but her name is Donna. I didn’t think of her at all, when I was training. All that mattered is that I became a Master and went to the Sanctum. But now, everything has shifted. I should have gone to see her again.’’

‘’You still can,’’ Tony tells him. After a moment of hesitation, he lays a hand on Stephen’s arm. The sorcerer looks up. ‘’I have no idea when all this trouble will be gone, but Obadiah’s on it. And afterwards, you can go to visit Dosham and see Donna again, and your parents. Maybe I’ll even come with you. I might need another break from the Palace.’’

Stephen doesn’t say anything. His light eyes rest on Tony’s, though, and breathing is suddenly a bit harder than it was before. Tony is all too aware of his hand resting on Stephen’s arm, still, and it feels like the contact is burning between them. He shuffles the tiniest bit closer, and Stephen doesn’t break his gaze at all.

A knock on the door interrupts whatever was going on. Tony jumps up. ‘’Hide in the bathing room,’’ he whispers furiously, pushing Stephen towards the right door. He’s fortunate enough to have his personal rooms, certainly, or there would have been nowhere to go.

It feels like a secret, having Stephen here. A part of Tony expects the sorcerer to protest, but Stephen goes without words. A more impatient knock comes this time, and Tony doesn’t have time to see if there are signs that need to be covered up before he opens the door.

It’s Rhodey and Pepper, the latter scowling at him. ‘’You’re not even dressed yet!’’ she says in dismay. ‘’Tony, have you forgotten? We need to go over the preparations for the ball you’re throwing.’’

The ball. Tony had almost forgotten. ‘’That my dad is throwing,’’ he reminds her.

Rhodey shrugs as Pepper continues glowering. ‘’I am responsible for everything that needs to happen, and I don’t even have two weeks to get it done,’’ she says. ‘’Prince Anthony Edward Stark, if you are not ready in thirty minutes to come help me with this, the assassins are the least of your concern.’’

‘’I know I’m a Knight of Virtue and shouldn’t let her threaten you, but I doubt any of us Knights can take her,’’ Rhodey says good-humouredly. 

Tony hums. ‘’That, I don’t doubt,’’ he agrees. ‘’Look, I just woke up. I’m going to get some breakfast and meet you right away. Just get started without me, right? I won’t take long.’’

With that, his friends appear to be satisfied. Tony sighs as he closes the door. The nightmare problem may have a temporary solution, for now, but that hardly means that their troubles are over.

~*~

There is a point in trance where all is quiet. The world is left behind and a void remains - absolute control of the mind and body both. However, that is not all. After a while, the voices come back. Not the outward voices, but internal thoughts and emotions. If anyone comes close to Stephen’s room, he feels the edge of their subconscious.

It’s hard to stay out. Probing minds is enticing, and Stephen has to peel himself away from invading anyone’s privacy. He isn’t a Master of Mind yet, and he won’t be for a while, but achieving this kind of trance - well, it’s the first step to being there.

Stephen reminisces about the first day after he’d picked Time as his Aspect. The Ancient One had stood before him as Stephen cast his first hesitant spell, letting Time stutter. It had taken him weeks to control anything at all, let alone to do so neatly. For six years, he’d studied Time. He’d learnt about its fickle nature and the reward of Mastering it. And now, all he needs is mere weeks.

It feels cheap. It feels like he’s skipping everything of importance, just to lose a colour. But even as he considers that thought, he focuses on his hands. So deeply in his own, so in control - they don’t shake now. He has never been steadier, even if there are still white scars marring his flesh.

 _Sometimes, you fall into a Test without knowing it_. The Ancient One’s words echo in his mind. He had taken years to learn the basics, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d learnt that would be useful for the other Aspects as well. It comes to him as naturally as breathing, what he is doing - he just needs to know how to do it at first, and to focus. 

He opens his eyes to find himself in his own room in the Palace again. His window is opened, and he hadn’t realized that he had goosebumps until just now. His legs ache from sitting in the same position for too long, and Stephen wonders how long he was in his trance for.

The yellow in his room is still visible, and he lets out a relieved sigh at that. He will gain Mastery, yes, but he isn’t looking forward to losing yet another colour. He’s still surprised by how much he misses looking at the blue sky. 

The focus doesn’t disappear at once. As Stephen stands up to stretch out his muscles, the tremor in his hands doesn’t come back. The sword that Tony gifted him lies on his desk - he grasps it, his fingers tightly holding onto the cold metal. And even if he can hold it, without his hands shaking and disobeying, he hates the reminder of the scars. The failure of fighting back.

Gloves might be a good idea, he decides, and puts back the sword. Outside of his room, he can hear faint murmurs. Shrugging his cloak on his shoulders, he ventures outside, peering outside.

A few people are walking around, but no one is talking. Stephen narrows his eyes for a bit before he realizes that these are not spoken murmurs - these are faint thoughts that he is still hearing. He hadn’t even heard them outside of meditation before. Intrigued, he focuses on a maid passing by. He can’t see her thoughts fully, but there’s something about food and the necessity to be quick, a faint worry eating at her.

It’s a fun experiment, for a while, as he wanders the hall. The Palace feels much livelier when there is no quiet, just a silent crowd whispering internally all at once. There isn’t any problem whatsoever until he can feel another mind approaching - whirling and busy and being pulled into several directions at once. The frustration is palpable, and Stephen turns to see who is darkening the hallways when the prince almost bumps into him.

‘’Sorry,’’ Tony mutters, seemingly barely noticing whom he walked into.

‘’Tony,’’ Stephen says, taking the man by his shoulders. Tony only looks up just then, coming out of whatever mood he was into. The frustration pouring off his mind still exists, but there is also room for some more clarity. ‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’Nothing,’’ Tony says far too quickly. ‘’Just busy. We’re arranging things for the ball. It’s a party all by itself.’’

The false cheeriness is telling enough all on its own. ‘’Can’t you cancel it?’’ Stephen asks, letting go of Tony as he takes a step back. ‘’It’s obviously not helping you at the moment. There are other things to focus on, right now. We still have to figure out who attacked you.’’

‘’Good luck with that.’’ The prince lets out a dejected sigh before he looks around the emptied hallway. Apparently satisfied with his findings, he turns back to Stephen. ‘’Look, I’ve talked about this with the King. He’s not going to be satisfied until I’m married with one child in my arms and another one in some girl’s belly. Who knows, maybe he set up the whole assassins thing just to force me into complying with his idiotic wishes.’’

‘’That’s a wildly grave accusation,’’ Stephen says, unable to keep the disapproval out of his voice. The King may be many things, among which a lousy father, but he wouldn’t bring his only son and heir in danger like that. The very idea makes him sick.

Tony deflates. ‘’I know he didn’t do that,’’ he sighs. ‘’I don’t want to marry, Stephen. Not to any of these girls, no matter how nice they are. It’s just another cage that’s meant to keep me safe but will never allow me to do anything by myself. Obadiah, well, he’s working on the case. Thing is, he fully believes the assassins were from Skoltia.’’

‘’I thought that was a set-up,’’ Stephen frowns. ‘’Doesn’t he believe you?’’

Tony shakes his head before he takes a few steps, knocking on the first wooden door he finds. When no answer comes, he opens it and signals for Stephen to follow. Wordlessly, he complies, just to find himself in an old storage. The only light falls through a small window on the far top of the walls, dust gathering on the empty shelves.

‘’Obadiah Stane is many things,’’ Tony says darkly, leaning against a wall that is smudged with something Stephen can’t identify immediately. ‘’The one thing he’s not? Flexible. In both ways, really. But he doesn’t believe me, and he definitely won’t listen to Pepper on the matter, so I’m not even going to try and take that route. Obi is a good man, alright, and he’s always been like a father to me. But he’s stubborn and he thinks I’m delirious with exhaustion. We need to find a way to prove this.’’

‘’You already found proof,’’ Stephen tells him, crossing his arms. ‘’I don’t know what else there can be.’’

‘’There’s a mole here.’’ The accusation is little more than a whisper, but it’s loud enough. ‘’We’re both aware of it, right? It’s why we left for the Sanctum. Nothing has changed since then, Stephen, absolutely nothing. There’s nothing stopping these people from coming in here again and finishing the job. We know they can.’’

‘’So why haven’t they?’’

That’s the big question, isn’t it? If they are capable of getting so close to Tony, why isn’t the prince dead already? 

‘’Because it doesn’t matter if I’m dead or alive, as long as I’m scared,’’ Tony says, and he doesn’t meet Stephen’s eyes. ‘’This is all just a way to intimidate my dad. To destroy him, maybe, and they’re just starting with me. But I’m not the end game, here - something else is.’’

‘’I’m only here to protect _you_ ,’’ Stephen emphasizes.

‘’You became a sorcerer to protect all of Veston,’’ Tony returns. ‘’There must be something you can do - something we can figure out. I don’t know who the hell to trust anymore, all right? But you came here only after, so I can trust you in this. We have to find out what’s going on, Stephen, and I can’t do it alone. I’m barely allowed to leave my chambers, much less so without a guard.’’

Stephen nods quietly. Something is going on, that’s for certain, and it is his task to make sure everything is safe. He cannot simply sit in his chambers and wait for things to happen, now. He needs to use these Aspects, now he has them - Time and Space, and Mind as well. The Ancient One wouldn’t have sent him here without a reason.

In the meantime, though, he watches the prince. Tony seems weary, despite the full night of sleep. A single night isn’t enough to fix everything. And Stephen needs him to be at his full capacity, for his own safety and for the kingdom’s future. 

‘’I will do whatever I can,’’ he promises quietly. Tony’s gaze meets his, and something in those brown eyes is very solemn. ‘’But I can’t do this by myself either, Tony. I’m just a Master, and your father won’t put much faith in just my word alone. We need to deal with this together, and you’re still exhausted.’’

‘’I wasn’t much of a sleeper before the nightmares,’’ the prince admits quietly. ‘’It made it both easier and worse, I guess.’’

‘’I’ll come by again tonight.’’ The words have left his lips before Stephen can even think about what he is proposing. ‘’Every night until you can sleep without nightmares again. You need to be rested. I can create a portal so there won’t be any questions. We will find a way, I promise. To find the ones behind this, and to convince Stane and the king.’’

‘’Preferably before they make me get married,’’ Tony says, and something in Stephen’s stomach twists. He doesn’t want Tony to look so desolate - he can’t picture the man standing at the altar. His wife would be beautiful, of course, a rose-cheeked blonde with curls reaching to her waist.

It wouldn’t be right, Stephen knows. He can imagine Tony smiling up to her as he kisses her, and forces the thought away. Tony wouldn’t be happy - and that’s why Stephen wouldn’t be happy about it, either. That’s all there is to it.

But Tony smiles kindly at him, dust fluttering around them, and Stephen knows himself well enough to feel the lie settling heavy in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's on the short side, but that's only because next one will be extra long and it simply made most sense to divide it here. See you next time in the final part of Yellow.


	9. Yellow / IV

The mirror reflects someone that Tony isn’t sure he knows. His eyes are clear and dark and as familiar as ever, but his tunic is a rich dark blue threaded with decorations of a classy gold. His hair had been handled far too much for the tousle to look natural, and Tony doesn’t even remember everyone who tried to tame it. Friday had been the one to manage it, in the end.

Obadiah stands next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘’They will all love you,’’ he assures Tony, as if that is the single most important thing on his mind. He’d rather no one loved him - not like this, certainly. He can already hear the buzz in the throne room, however, the dozens of people eagerly awaiting his arrival.

He’d thought he’d have the time to stop this ball from happening, but the days had gone by, and it hadn’t stopped coming closer. And here he is, a prince for sale.

‘’I know,’’ he just says, and the unfamiliar person in the mirror moves his lips at the same time Tony does. He looks more like a dolled up figure - the actual royal he is supposed to be and never has been. If only his mother was still here to kiss his cheek and tell him he was exactly the person she wanted him to be.

Well, she’s not here, and he’s not that person.

‘’This is a good thing you’re doing, Tony,’’ Obadiah says, releasing his shoulder and turning to him fully. ‘’You’ll see that you will be far happier with a wife by your side. And I assure you, I will personally make sure that you get everything you deserve. Your safety is guaranteed.’’

‘’You still haven’t caught them, have you?’’ Tony sighs, and takes a step away. ‘’I’ll just go in. Thanks for the help, Obi.’’

‘’Always, my boy,’’ the man smiles, and turns away. ‘’I meant to ask - you seem to have been sleeping better, these past few weeks. What changed?’’

‘’I’m not sure,’’ Tony says vaguely. ‘’The dreams just disappeared. I’m all good, Obi.’’

Obadiah doesn’t seem to fully take him on his word, as he narrows his eyes. Tony just stands there, trying to look as unassuming as possible. ‘’And you’ve been eating well? All the meals I’ve sent you?’’

‘’I’ve eaten all of it,’’ Tony promises. ‘’Look, there’s no reason to be worried about me. I’m doing fine. I think there’s a lot of people waiting, though.’’

‘’Right,’’ Obadiah mutters, and at least he looks a little sheepish. ‘’I’ll go in first. Find me when you get into the hall, and I’ll introduce you to some ladies I’m sure you’ll love.’’

Tony nods absent-mindedly as the door creaks and then falls shut behind Obadiah. These past two weeks had been a frenzy of organizing this ball. His days had consisted of consulting with Pepper and getting put into tunics, pre-tasting the dishes and going over guest lists. Tony isn’t sure why he was made to be so involved with everything - perhaps because many of his other duties had been taken away.

His evenings had been slightly better. Stephen had come to his room, always at the same time. They talked for a bit, sometimes, or shared whatever meal Obadiah had sent up to his chambers that day. They didn’t see each other so often during the days anymore, but their evenings were - cosy, for lack of a better word. Familiar. And Tony had slept better than ever for the past few weeks.

Stephen had never stayed the whole night, however. Not after that first time. And Tony’s not quite sure why he cares about that the way he does.

He waits for a few minutes before he takes a deep breath and steps outside. The hallways are brisk, with all the front doors being open. Tony isn’t sure how this hasn’t been perceived as a huge risk, but all Knights are on duty. The Knights of Vice will be wandering the halls, while many of the Knights of Virtue are guarding all the openings.

Rhodey will be in the throne room, however. That’s one thing Tony can look forward to, even if his friend will still be far too busy coordinating everyone’s safety in there.

Without waiting for another excruciating second, he pushes open the doors to the throne room. The entire hall is bathed in candle-light, all decorations a pure white. If Tony hadn’t known better, he’d have thought this was his wedding day already.

He hopes that he’s looking as maintained and self-assured as he wants to be as he enters the room. All conversations turn to hushed whispers as he strides forward to the main dining table, the one only Howard is occupying currently. Tony would have preferred sitting there since the beginning of the evening, but it had been decided that he needed an entrance. No amount of whining made a difference.

Somewhere in the crowd, he can see Stephen’s supportive smile. Taking a deep breath, Tony keeps his chin up high and walks on, even if he wants to dive towards Stephen and ask him to create a portal to somewhere else. Anywhere else, at this point.

It feels like a thousand years until he reaches the table. Howard nods at him when he does, and Tony turns around and bows to all his guests. The King rises and like clockwork, everyone else sinks to their knees. Tony just keeps stock still, trying to find as many familiar faces as he can.

‘’Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Veston,’’ Howard starts, his voice as commanding as ever. ‘’We would all like to thank you for coming to this event that will hopefully mean a new chapter in my family’s book. Many generations of the Stark family have thrown balls to show their gratitude towards our lovely and most noble inhabitants - and to find amongst you a worthy new princess. My son Anthony has decided that it is time to get married and have a family of his own, a decision I can only encourage. Therefore, we invited the worthiest ladies to see which one of you will join the royal family as the prince’s wife. Anthony?’’

Tony knows it’s coming, and still he’s a bit rattled to find the entire hall of people still kneeling silently, waiting for him to speak. He smiles, even if no one will see it.

‘’It is my pleasure to get to know all of you,’’ he says. His voice doesn’t falter and he doesn’t hesitate to speak - this is a role he knows how to play. ‘’I’m sure that all of you ladies are beautiful and graceful and would do wonderfully by my side. I will endeavour to speak to most of you, if not all. Hopefully, by the end of the evening, I will have found my future wife. Please, until then, rise and enjoy the ball.’’

The entire room rises and the excitable whispers start again. Tony can feel a headache coming up, and quickly makes his way through the crowd before the first women can come up to claim him for a dance. He needs some air, and he needs it now.

He’s stopped by a hand on his arm. ‘’My prince,’’ someone says - a low voice comes, one that Tony faintly recognizes. As he looks up, he sees that it belongs to a well-groomed blond man, richly dressed with a winning smile on his face. 

‘’Sir Killian,’’ Tony says, the name slipping from his tongue. He’s glad he remembers, at least. It’s not as if he’s often in contact with the diplomats, although Aldrich Killian certainly had tried to win Tony’s approval during his earlier days in the court.

‘’Can I just say how lovely I think it is that you’re looking for a wife,’’ Killian says. Tony smiles weakly, looking around to see if there’s someone who can save him from this. It’s not that he dislikes Killian, but well - the man used to be clingy, and it wouldn’t be the first time Tony left him standing there. 

‘’Well, not half as lovely as the alliance with Menteri you got us,’’ Tony returns. He hopes Killian won’t want to introduce him to any women - and maybe talking about his most recent deal, which has been so important for Veston as well, will steer the conversation in another direction.

Killian, like all men obsessed with their own successes, bites. ‘’The Mantri isn’t an easy man to convince,’’ the diplomat laughs, but he also lets go of Tony as he does so. ‘’Of course, I didn’t do it all by myself. Menteri is a gorgeous country, you know, when you learn to appreciate the desert and the different way of living. They have their issues, of course, but they will be able to solve them with our help. Besides, they have many exotic fruits that will come our way. Did you know that our people, those who aren’t familiar with the court, think that the Mantri is named after one of those? The Mandarin, they call him. Like the orange. Silly, isn’t it?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Tony mutters. Surreptitiously looking around for an escape isn’t his forte, but he can surely find a reason to get away from the mind-numbing small talk about Menteri and go somewhere else, can’t he?

‘’Peace is often hard-won, but with enough dedication -’’

‘’Excuse me.’’

Tony turns around, and he can feel Killian brushing against him as he does the same. Stephen stands next to him, a pleasant smile on his otherwise blank face. 

‘’Master Strange,’’ Tony says, finally feeling some of the tension drain away. ‘’This is Sir Aldrich Killian, one of our finest diplomats. Sir Killian, meet our live-in sorcerer, Master Stephen Strange.’’

Killian shakes Stephen’s hand with a look that comes close to hidden disdain - except that for Tony, it isn’t so hidden. 

‘’Very good to meet you, sir,’’ Stephen says smoothly. ‘’I have heard of your work with Menteri. Very well done. Now, if you’ll excuse me - my prince, I was asked to guide you towards some ladies who’d love to make your acquaintance. That is, after all, what the entire evening is supposed to be about.’’

His smile is so disarming that Tony is surprised Killian doesn’t seem to brighten upon seeing it. Tony surely does - Stephen has a hint of mischief paired with actual sunlight, all packed on a gorgeous face with his light eyes twinkling in good humour.

Tony allows Stephen to take his arm and lead them away, with a final and hurried goodbye towards a sour-faced Killian. Stephen doesn’t speed up, however, nor does he seem inclined to stop near any of the excitable ladies in the hall. They walk leisurely past a multitude of brightly coloured and wildly decorated dresses - past dozens of painted faces and heads of curled hair. 

In fact, Stephen doesn’t stop until he reaches a quiet corner, hidden behind a gushing fountain. Rose petals come out of it, and Tony stares at it a bit fascinated until Stephen lets go of him and pushes him away a bit with two gloved hands.

‘’Thanks for the rescue,’’ Tony says gratefully, watching the sorcerer now. ‘’I don’t imagine you can just sweep me off my feet and get me out of here for the rest of the evening? Nice gloves, by the way. Very fashionable.’’

‘’Well, I could hardly let my scarred hands spoil the beauty of the evening, could I?’’ Stephen says, and there’s only the tiniest bit of self-deprecation in his tone. ‘’I could very well sweep you off your feet, but I think the King would have my head for it.’’

Tony smiles weakly. ‘’I do like your head where it is,’’ he agrees. 

‘’My prince, you are hidden for a minute now, but you do need to talk to some of the women here. Perhaps you’ll even find that there are some whose presence you actually enjoy. You know that the King is not going to let you get away without at least making an attempt - he’ll pick one for you, if you do. I can’t save you every time.’’

‘’Why not?’’ Tony demands. ‘’I know I have to talk to some of them, but you can get me away from them, right?’’

Stephen looks pained for a minute, like he is making a decision about something. Then the sorcerer just sighs and pinches his nose before he talks. ‘’I had a plan for this evening. An important plan that it would best not be interfered with.’’

It sounds like Tony is supposed to know what to do with the cryptic words. Stephen just looks at him intently, as if forcing him to understand. Tony shakes his head. ‘’You’re - what? Going to find a wife for yourself here, maybe? I mean, are sorcerers even allowed to get married? C’mon, Stephen, what is more important than saving me?’’

‘’ _Saving_ you is more important than saving you,’’ Stephen says and looks over Tony’s shoulder for a moment, most likely to see if anyone’s coming for them yet. ‘’You have to trust me. I will endeavour to get you away whenever I can but there is something else I need to focus on first.’’

Tony just nods in defeat. It’s not realistic to expect Stephen to swoop in and get him away from everyone who wants to talk to him. At the end of this evening, Tony will have a fiancée - the woman he must marry. Pepper will be elated for all of two seconds before she realizes that Howard will want him to marry within the month. 

If she was anxious about preparing a ball within two weeks, what will she say about a royal wedding within four?

‘’I’ll try to survive, then,’’ he says. ‘’I’ll just - approach whoever seems most likeable. Who knows what comes out of it?’’

Stephen smiles at his fake cheerfulness and nods. What can they do, after all? Tony must get married, and he’s pretty sure that Stephen doesn’t really care about that except that he maybe wants Tony to be happy in a platonic and friendly way. 

Tony just plasters on a smile and makes his way back into the room, leaving Stephen to whatever he is planning. He can do this by himself - he doesn’t need a sorcerer to come and rescue him. He never did, only he got a little used to the luxury of having one nearby anyway. 

And Stephen has never turned down an opportunity to help him before.

He walks his way through the crowd. Some people are dancing already, the slow music even louder than the volume of everyone talking. Eyeing the women nearby, he tries to find someone that looks gentler than most. Someone who won’t traipse over him at the first turn.

A blonde girl standing apart from a group of women eventually attracts his attention. She doesn’t seem all too happy to be there. Whereas the others are laughing and talking - and glancing in his direction none too furtively - she keeps quiet, her arms folded and her gaze somewhere in the far distance.

Before he’s aware of what he’s doing, he approached the group. ‘’Good evening, my lady,’’ he says cheerfully, aiming himself at the blonde woman. Her long red dress glitters a bit in the lighting, but it’s a tasteful item. ‘’May I have this dance?’’

She blinks at him, mostly surprised by the sudden attention. All the other women go quiet, waiting for her answer. ‘’Yes, of course,’’ she says eventually, her bewildered tone amusing him a bit even as she takes his hand.

She smells like perfume - he wouldn’t even be able to tell what it’s made of. But her astonished laughter is real as she leans into him, and Tony doesn’t think he’s found his wife. She seems like a wonderful woman, though, who will make someone very happy someday. Not him, but he has a sinking feeling that no one will.

After all, he’s dancing with a beautiful woman, and all he can think of is the mischief in Stephen’s captivating smile.

~*~

Stephen tries to lay low as he keeps to the edge of the crowd. There’s always someone that tries to talk to him, however, and he can’t be rude. In the months since he has come here, he hasn’t just learnt to Master Space - he’s also learnt how the court works, and the court doesn’t forgive any social mishaps.

Unless he wants to be stared at for the rest of the decade, he needs to pretend he’s interested in people’s small talk.

‘’Very talented of you,’’ an elderly man says while he’s bobbing his head as if to reinforce his point, ‘’becoming a Master so young! I’ve heard talk about it, you know! Youngest sorcerer ever to become a Master, aren’t you?’’

‘’Only in the last hundred years or so,’’ Stephen mutters, trying to stay focused. He is getting a headache from the continued conversation and the sheer volume in the room. Here he is, trying to use Mind for the kingdom’s good, and he is being thwarted by each and every one of its citizens.

‘’I’ve always been tremendously interested in the Sanctum,’’ the man continues. ‘’And so good of you to come here and learn something about proper etiquette! Oh, I know they teach you about that stuff as well, but there’s no place like court to learn manners. Did you know -’’

‘’I’m terribly sorry, but I need to leave now,’’ Stephen interrupts smoothly. ‘’I am seeing something that needs my attention. It was wonderful to meet you.’’

He hopes that he won’t be muttering about manners anymore. Or to be honest, he doesn’t care, as long as the man doesn’t prattle on in Stephen’s general direction. Taking a few more steps, he worms himself in between two busy parties where he won’t be seen and where, in all probability, everyone is too busy socializing already to disturb him. He takes a deep breath and focuses again.

At once, hundreds of vague thoughts become available to him. Mind is useful, but it needs more focus. Carefully, he picks out the most obvious of thoughts that he can see. Mostly, these belong to overeager guests who are sure that if the prince saw them, or their daughters, there would be no more contest. 

These are not the people he is looking for. There is a mole, Tony had said it himself. There is someone in the Palace who got close enough to leave a threat for Tony on his desk, and the King hadn’t found them. So now Stephen can try.

He’d only considered the thought of trying to find the mole during the ball a week earlier. Tony had been sleeping, his breath even and calm, and Stephen had held watch over his nightmares. If Tony were to be safe, they needed to find out who the mole was - and what better opportunity than this? 

He needs to Master Mind anyway. He might just as well try to save Tony with it.

The frustration is building, however, as there is not a single treacherous thought in sight. Some bitter people are present, those who think they deserve more than they ever got, and those who aren’t glad with their situation. People who blame it on the King, on the prince, on the Sanctum, on Veston itself, on tradition, on anything that can ever be blamed - they all exist, but none of them seems to harbour any thoughts of actually harming the royals. None of them seems to be the mole.

Stephen doesn’t even know how long he’s been standing there when someone taps him on the shoulder. He starts, though he hopes it wasn’t that noticeable. Judging by Obadiah Stane’s grin, however, he didn’t miss it.

‘’Good evening, Master Strange,’’ the man says, rubbing his hands as he comes to stand next to him. ‘’Are you enjoying your night?’’

‘’Tremendously,’’ Stephen answers, focusing on Stane. His thoughts are jumbled, in a way, and he can make little sense of them. There is a unique sharpness and competence in there, but Stephen can’t probe past some vague and superficial thoughts.

Perhaps that is no surprise. Stane is an important man, and perhaps he’s received some training from the Ancient One to guard his thoughts, like the King has. It’s not much of a problem - Tony trusts this man completely, and there is nothing the King’s right hand has to gain by sabotaging Veston. 

‘’Obviously,’’ Stane says, the forged smile that’s plastered on his lips more mocking than anything else. ‘’Would you mind doing me a favour? I know a girl that Tony would truly enjoy meeting, I think, but I can’t be seen pushing them together. These people already think they’re not getting a fair chance with the prince, and I’m too high a figure for them to accept my matchmaking. Just make sure you get him over to the blonde woman with the dark blue dress, would you? Her name is Christine Everhart, and she and Tony would make a delightful couple.’’

‘’Are you truly sure you don’t want to marry her yourself, sir Stane?’’ Stephen returns, but he looks in the direction Stane points him to. She truly is a beauty, from what he can see. She seems impatient and unamused, but that makes her more honest than most other women in here. 

Stane booms out a laugh and pats him on the back. ‘’Just get him over to her in the sneakiest manner you can. I am certain of your success, Master Strange.’’

A song is just at its end when Stephen reaches Tony. He can still feel Stane’s eyes burning on his back, and he knows that there is no discussing anything serious right now. They are in a crowd where anything they say might be overheard.

And yet, when Tony lets go of the woman he was dancing with and his eyes find Stephen’s, it’s as if no one else is there at all.

‘’My prince,’’ he says, inclining his head to Tony and the tiny dark-haired woman. ‘’My lady. Excuse me, my prince, I need to talk to you for a few short moments?’’

‘’Thank you for the dance, Lady Anna,’’ Tony says gracefully. ‘’Perhaps I will see you again later this evening.’’

‘’Perhaps,’’ she says, and steps away with twinkling eyes. Stephen can’t help but glance at Tony’s mind for just a second - the prince isn’t in love yet, certainly. He’s not thinking about any of these woman, though Stephen leaves before he can see what he is thinking about. He’s not here to invade Tony’s privacy, after all.

‘’I thought you couldn’t rescue me anymore,’’ Tony says with some amusement. After several dances, he still looks as groomed as he did at the start of the evening. With a healthy flush to his face, he looks even livelier, in fact. 

Stephen smiles wryly. ‘’I’m here to do the opposite of rescuing you, in fact. I have been asked to -’’

A new song starts up, and the women are obviously glancing in their direction again. Before Stephen can finish his sentence, Tony has taken a step closer and grabbed one of his hands and his middle. They’re not pressed together, but they’re certainly closer than they’ve ever been.

‘’Sorry,’’ Tony says, even as he sways to the music. ‘’If I’m not dancing, the King might just incinerate me. Come on, one dance. You can tell me what you want to tell me without dozens of girls trying to claw me into their grasp.’’

It’s not a graceful dance. It is anything but, to be fair. Stephen tries to follow Tony’s lead, but he only knows a few particular dances, and _this is not one of them_. 

‘’I can’t do this one,’’ he says under his breath, feeling something resembling anxiety bubble up. ‘’Tony, I can’t -’’

‘’Relax,’’ Tony says, and the bastard doesn’t even sound bothered in the least. ‘’You’re doing great. Just keep following me and we’ll be fine. It’s not overly complicated, you know? Alright, tell me now before you step on my toes.’’

‘’I thought you said I was doing fine,’’ Stephen accuses him, but he’s holding on so tightly that he’s afraid he might be giving the prince bruises.

Tony grins broadly. ‘’You’re a disaster, but you could’ve been worse. How are you so graceful and yet you can’t grasp the concept of dancing?’’

‘’Being quick on your feet has nothing to do with this decided-upon movement,’’ Stephen grumbles, but when he focuses on Tony’s feet, he almost stops tripping. ‘’I don't know how to do this one.’’

‘’Consider this a tutorial,’’ Tony suggests, and Stephen should really keep staring at his feet before either of them is seriously injured. It’s hard to think about that, however, when Tony looks like he’s having more fun than he did the rest of the night.

Stephen quickly glances down again, and from there on, it’s a lot easier. Tony’s right hand on his middle is warm and pleasant, and his left hand is folded into Stephen’s gloved right one. It’s almost fun, swaying along to the music, as he just chooses to follow Tony’s movement. After a while, it even begins to make sense, and he can look up. Tony’s eyes are still glued to him, but the prince looks away when Stephen raises his head.

‘’I still do need to tell you,’’ Stephen starts, when he senses the song starts to end. ‘’There is a woman here that Stane desperately wants you to meet. Her name is Christine Everhart. You should be able to see her if you look over my shoulder - the brunette in the blue dress, looking awfully bored.’’

‘’Looking over your shoulder?’’ There’s a snort from Tony. ‘’You’re a giant. Wait, here, let me switch us around a bit. Oh - the woman who is drinking the red wine? Alright, if Obi wants me to talk to her. Is that really all you wanted to say?’’

There are several responses on the tip of Stephen’s tongue. He can tell Tony that he’s looking for the mole, or that there are many women here that Tony can grow content, if not happy, with. He can say that there is a danger that they haven’t identified yet, or joke about Tony’s upcoming nuptials with who-knows-what-fiancée. 

‘’Do you want me to come tonight?’’ he asks instead, and can feel the tip of his ears glowing at the question. ‘’I mean - to sleep. To help you sleep. Or are you -’’

‘’You should come,’’ Tony says just as hurriedly. ‘’If you want to. If you don’t have other plans after the ball.’’

‘’I don’t,’’ Stephen says, and thinks about the end of the ball. Tony will announce whichever woman he liked best and will marry, and Stephen will find him to get rid of his nightmares again. And all the nights after that - who knows? 

‘’Neither do I,’’ Tony tells him, and the song ends. His hands disappear behind his back, and Stephen feels like he has done something wrong. Is one more dance too much to ask? A dance he knows, maybe, so he can show Tony that he’s not all that clumsy, and he can really hold him in return, and -

Stephen is an idiot. These dances are not his to take.

‘’Good luck with finding a wife, my prince,’’ he says, and disappears again. Lost in the crowd, he can’t even see Tony’s familiar face anymore. He can only assume that the prince has gone to find Christine Everhart, the girl that Stane is so certain will be liked by Tony.

This is going to be a long night. He tries to focus on hearing treacherous thoughts among the people again, but he can only hear all the women who are thinking about gaining the prince’s favour. He doesn’t consider the irony of him thinking about the same thing.

~*~

The thing is - he can’t remember the name.

He has a piece of paper in his hand with the name on it. He’d had it checked by the King, who’d nodded his approval with a glint in his eye. Tony can’t remember the last time he saw that kind of approval from Howard, and it doesn’t even feel good anymore. It just feels like he’s selling his soul.

He always knew that was part of the job, selling his soul. He knows that he has to do things he doesn’t like for the good of Veston. It is the price he has to pay - he’s just a human, playing like he is more. 

The crowd is looking at him, quieter than they’d been the rest of the night. Rhodey is standing next to him, the perfect Knight on duty. Pepper is standing in front of the crowd, her hair beautifully done. Once upon a time, he could have married her, perhaps. Maybe when he was eighteen and Howard had first brought up the prospect of Tony’s future family. She was a woman of decent upbringing, if not noble, and his father might have accepted.

He hadn’t been in love, but it might have been enough.

He can’t see Stephen. He looked, and there’s a thousand familiar faces - Obadiah, Happy, May next to Friday. But he just wanted to see one sign of approval from Stephen - just a simple sign. If Tony can’t be allowed to marry for love, then at least he can get some sort of acceptance from the person that he - well. That he does love, or that he’s coming close to, at least.

Of all the times to realize his feelings.

‘’I want to thank you all so much for coming to our ball,’’ he starts, and he should look at the name he wrote down. He can’t remember who he said he’d marry - which girl was the most acceptable, out of all of them? He doesn’t even remember her face.

‘’Just tell us!’’ someone shouts from the crowd, and Tony straightens his back.

Yes. He should tell them. 

‘’Many lovely ladies have come tonight, and for that, I’m tremendously happy,’’ he continues. ‘’I know there have been many speculations on who I would choose to marry. Many speculations that, I have to say, have wildly different outcomes. I haven’t heard the right one yet, I should say. The truth is -’’

He stops for a while. The name is right there in his hand - the name he can’t remember, right now. Just stick to the card, and he’ll be done. A girl will come forward and he’ll kiss her on the cheek, and he will grow to be content. That’s all it’ll be, but there are worse things in life. He can learn to live like that.

‘’Just stick to the card, Tony,’’ Rhodey whispers from next to him, and Tony makes a decision.

‘’The truth is that I’m not marrying anyone, right now.’’ The crowd explodes with noise, made worse by the echoing room, but he tries to continue. ‘’When I marry, it will be for love, and not for anything else. I have a duty towards Veston, but my heart remains my own, and no one can ask me to give that up!’’

He barely even notices Rhodey and Obadiah both trying to get him away from the platform. With everyone shouting and moving, he can only see one figure - the one person remaining stock still in in the flood of unsettled guests. Stephen is staring right at him, and Tony stares back in defiance.

He is not going to marry and no one will force him.

~*~

Stephen isn’t sure whether their earlier plans should still continue, but he hadn’t had the chance to talk to Tony after what happened. Obvious, of course - he is quite sure that Tony had been shouted at for a while after the catastrophe of him refusing to marry in public.

It was a good statement, though, as far as these things go. Even if it wasn’t the smart thing to do.

The portal sizzles away in Tony’s personal chambers, but the prince isn’t there yet. Stephen just decides to duck into the bathroom, in case someone else comes in, and wait in there. Besides, it will give him some time to think of what he is going to say.

He isn’t even sure what he _wants_ to say, let alone _how_ to say it. Should he congratulate Tony on avoiding his dreaded nuptials? Should he follow his King’s example and berate him for it? Should Stephen even have an opinion on the matter at all? 

What does it say about him that he’s mostly relieved?

It takes almost an hour until he hears the door fall shut in the other room. As he doesn’t hear voices or any kind of shuffling that would indicate multiple persons or a maid, he looks around the corner. Tony has thrown himself on the bed, his face smushed in the pillow.

Stephen can’t help but smile at the sight. ‘’I’d say that it wasn’t that bad, but I’m sure you’d convince me of the opposite.’’

Tony only looks up at his voice, a weary puzzlement in his glance. ‘’You’re here? I thought I was way too late.’’

‘’I waited,’’ Stephen assures him, and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

The prince sighs and sits up. He’s still wearing the same outfit he wore to the ball - all rich and gorgeous, though it’s not in a colour Stephen can still see. He guesses it’s blue, but it might just as well be green.

‘’Howard shouted at me for an hour,’’ the prince says tiredly. ‘’Then Obadiah shouted at me. Then they shouted at me together. They wanted to keep one of the women here and make me marry anyway, but I refused.’’

‘’You threw a tantrum?’’ Stephen guesses.

‘’I don’t know. I still think it should be my final say if I get married and to who, but I think my dad and Obi would agree with it being a tantrum. Look, Stephen, if you agree with them -’’

‘’I never said I did.’’

Tony sighs and leans against the bed post. ‘’I know, I know. I’m sorry. It was a long day and I’m tired. Tired of being this prancing pony forced to do tricks in front of everyone and held on a leash when I don’t. Tired of not being able to say who I want to marry. Just - tired.’’

‘’And I’ll help you sleep,’’ Stephen says. Tony smiles at him, the gratefulness in his eyes saying more than any words could. He just pulls the covers over himself, not even bothering to undress or do more than kick off his shoes. 

‘’If you’re tired,’’ Tony mutters, crawling up a little so his head rests on the pillow, ‘’don’t sleep on the floor. There’s a perfectly good other side of the bed.’’

Stephen watches him for a while, not sure what to make of that statement. The prince doesn’t notice, though - he’s asleep within seconds. It’s a good thing that he’s so exhausted, probably, or the turmoil would keep him up for far longer. That’s what it would do to Stephen, at least.

He sits next to the bedside for a couple more hours. It’s the middle of the night, the darkest part of the day, when he decides to stretch his legs for a couple of moments. The silence is loud enough for Stephen to drown in it, and he shoves aside the curtains a little to watch the stars.

It’s a clear night, and the temperature is pleasant. Kamar-Taj is further north, and it gets a little colder there, even during the summer nights. Stephen sighs. If he had been in the Sanctum now - if he’d always been in the Sanctum - his life would have been different.

He would’ve scoffed at the ball, presumably. He’d have said that the prince needed to man up and do his duty for the kingdom. Things are never as easy when you’re closer to them. All he can imagine is Tony’s dark eyes during that stolen dance, and the vision of him laughing with a woman. It’s not right.

The moment he starts to wonder if this will be Tony’s first night without nightmares, the prince starts muttering in his sleep. Stephen falls back to the bed immediately, hovering over the slumbering figure. With his little finger pressed against Tony’s forehead, he enters.

There is the ball, somewhere, as part of the dream, but it’s only a background drop. Tony is standing alone in the middle of the dancing floor, a figure in his arms that there is a swirling mess of feelings for. Stephen can’t make out exactly what, except that he can only feel from Tony’s mind that he cares, that this person has been poisoned and will die -

He can’t hear the exact words that Tony is muttering, as fast as he is going, but the distress is noticeable, as is the intent. He shuffles closer, in order to hear the words, only to find himself freezing as he notices it’s a dream-version of himself on the floor. Tony is asking him to stay, and dream-Stephen is going to choke. From the poison?

 _Stay with me_. And Stephen, for the first time, doesn’t know how to fix this dream.

 _Wake up_ , he whispers instead. _This is a nightmare. I’m here, so wake up._

And with that, a storm starts in the clear of the night. Tony is up, but not coherent - his mind is protesting against the intrusion. Stephen is far too deep into Tony’s subconscious right now to just simply let go - if he does, who knows where he’ll end up? And yet, his very presence is being attacked to the bone, and just coming out of a nightmare, Tony is panicked. And panicked people are always stronger than they think they are.

This, of course, is the danger of playing with Mind before you’ve fully Mastered it.

Stephen strains to hold onto Tony’s mind, aware that he’s only digging himself deeper just so he’s not violently thrown out. _It’s just me_ , he pleads. _I’m Stephen. I’m invited._

The whirlwind doesn’t let up. Stephen closes his eyes to the images passing by. This is not meant to be seen by him - this is private and just for Tony, even if it’s getting harder and harder to keep the connection. Stephen can’t let go, though, so he delves and delves, trying to blind himself to the memories that he’s unlocking. Some of them have even been hidden from Tony himself and Stephen is wildly aware that he’s gone way further than he ever has - or ever should have.

Finding something that resembles an opening, Stephen takes the chance and leaps out. Opening his eyes, he can see his trembling hands leaning against the white of Tony’s bed. At least he isn’t lost into the endless space of Mind, wandering around without an exit.

Tony is sitting up, pale and sweat dripping down his face, as he stares at Stephen. ‘’What the hell was that?’’ he asks.

‘’You - you had a nightmare,’’ Stephen says and finds, to his own horror, that he is stammering. He just needs a second to compose himself, and he drops to the ground. Why is he shaking so much? It was too close.

Tony gets out of bed, also more rattled than Stephen has ever seen him. ‘’I know I had a nightmare,’’ he says, and folds his hands over his eyes, exhaustion and anxiety apparently playing some sort of battle for control. ‘’I’ve had nightmares before! You always dealt with them! What did you _do_?’’

‘’I was surprised to see _myself_ there, if you don’t mind,’’ Stephen snaps, throwing up his arms. ‘’Since when do you dream about me, Tony? Since when do you care if I stay?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ Tony shouts back in frustration. ‘’Why do you care what I’m dreaming about? God, I can’t deal with this, Stephen! I’ve thrown away the life I was supposed to have today, and even _Rhodey_ didn’t understand why! I may have shirked my duty today, but so have you, right? I don’t have to tell you _anything_! I don’t owe you anything, and I’ve just about had it with people who are trying to tell me what I’m supposed to do or not!’’

‘’You’re impossible,’’ Stephen says. This isn’t his fault - he’s helped Tony over and over again, never asking for anything in return. He’s given up hours of sleep just so Tony could be well-rested. He’s spent weeks trying to Master Space and Mind so he could make sure that the prince remained alive and well.

‘’Maybe it is me,’’ Tony returns viciously. ‘’Maybe I want more than I can have. After all, who would even _dare_ to ask for a normal life?’’

‘’You have a duty! And you’re not the only one giving up the life they wanted! I didn’t ask to come here, you know! I should have been in the Sanctum, like I always wanted to be!’’

Tony stands still for a few moments, while Stephen pants. He’s never lost it like this - and he regrets his words as soon as he gives life to them. He tries to talk, but the prince is already shaking his head and taking a few steps back.

‘’Leave, then,’’ he says, bitterly cold. The fire is gone from his voice, but something more lethal has taken its place, and Stephen doesn’t like this one bit.

‘’I didn’t mean it. Tony, I -’’

‘’You’re not going to leave?’’ Tony snaps. ‘’Fine. Then I’ll leave. That’s just fine with me. Here, I’ll just go.’’

Tony looks ruffled, but as he went to sleep in his clothes from the ball, he’s still something that resembles presentable.

‘’It’s the middle of the night,’’ Stephen says - pleads. ‘’Just go to bed - I’ll leave.’’

The prince is already opening the door, though, scouting the hallways. There’s not even the usual guard in place in front of his bedroom door. Stephen wonders if it’s because of the ball or faulty scheduling. It doesn’t matter, right now - all he needs to do is make sure that he makes it up to Tony.

‘’I just need to be alone right now,’’ Tony says quietly, his shoulders sagging. He looks wearier than ever, a sort of haunted sadness in his eyes - and Stephen can’t let him go like this. How could he ever let him go like this?

He takes a few steps forward, until he’s standing right in front of the young man. ‘’Please stay,’’ he repeats Tony’s question from the dream. 

They’re as close as they were during the dance. Stephen can feel Tony’s eyes focused on him, can hear his deep breathing. And it doesn’t stop there - even as Tony leans up, Stephen finds himself bowing down. He’s not even sure what he is doing, or for what purpose.

‘’I’m -’’ Tony starts, his breath ghosting over Stephen’s face. ‘’I can’t.’’

And with that, whatever was between them is broken. Tony takes a step further away, his mouth opened as if he wants to say something. Before he does, though, he just shakes his head minutely and almost runs away. Stephen just stands there, hearing the fading footsteps and waiting until they disappear entirely.

Stephen exhales loudly, standing in the door opening. His head is aching from Tony’s dream, and he is reeling from all the events of yesterday and this night. Maybe Tony just needs a few hours to gather himself.

Staring at the hallway and the familiar wallpaper, it takes him a while to understand why everything is looking just a bit differently than it was. He chalks it up to night-time for all of two moments, before he realizes one very important change.

The lights give off a different light. He can’t see yellow anymore.

He leans his head against the doorpost and stands still for a very long time.

~*~

All things considered, Stephen thinks his presence during the large breakfast served in the dining room is unexpected. Hundreds of guests and the nobles who stay in the Palace need to be fed, and it’s a much larger affair than it usually is. Stephen usually just goes by the kitchen to get something to eat, but he’d just thought -

Well. He’s not absolutely sure what he thought. He would just rather not be alone, even if he’s still sitting all by himself. 

There’s an omelet waiting for him to be eaten, right there on his plate, but Stephen just moves it around with his fork. It doesn’t look as tasty, with the egg yolk having lost most of its colour. There’s still some hints of orange that he can see, but the yellow - that’s gone. 

At least his hands aren’t shaking anymore as he holds his utensils. That is one relief - he can control the tremors, now, and make sure that his movements are as steady as ever.

His thoughts get interrupted when a figure sits down next to him.

‘’Lady Natasha,’’ Stephen greets her, barely looking up. 

‘’Master Strange,’’ she returns. ‘’I hope you’re having a good morning. I needed to speak with you about something urgent.’’

That means it’s Knights of Vice business. Only a few select people in court will know that she’s a Knight, so they can’t speak out in the open. Stephen sighs and leaves his omelet behind, following Romanoff’s graceful stride. She leads him into the hallway, where she finds an abandoned spot soon enough.

‘’What is it?’’ he asks tiredly. ‘’I was eating.’’

She snorts. ‘’Yes, I saw. Miss Potts and I have done some research into the assassins - apart from Stane’s own investigation. There was no other conclusion than the one we already had, but then I dug a little deeper on some other cases. Someone has been selling information - and I think it’s to Menteri.’’

‘’Why?’’ Stephen asks, shaking his head. ‘’Menteri is our new ally. Why would they do such a thing?’’

‘’It might be just a ploy,’’ Romanoff answers. ‘’Nothing is fully clear. Maybe they’re just pretending so that we won’t look their way. But there are signs, Strange. We need to inform the King.’’

‘’And the prince,’’ he says. Tony has no idea who is after his life yet - he’s somewhere all by himself, after Stephen messed up so badly. He can’t stop thinking about the prince standing so close to him, close enough to count the freckles on his nose - leaning in -

‘’The Knights of Vice will handle all communication with King Howard,’’ Romanoff says, interrupting his thoughts. ‘’You can inform the prince of this development, but considering the recent events, we might want to keep father and son apart for a few days.’’

‘’I don’t know if the prince will want to see me,’’ he says, and Romanoff is painstakingly silent for a few moments. He can feel her assessing him, churning out conclusions with remarkable speed.

Eventually, she nods, sending him something of a comforting smile. ‘’Find Knight Rhodes and make him do it, then. I’m certain things will turn out fine, Master Strange. We will find whoever is responsible for this threat, and the prince will be safe.’’

And that’s the most important thing. As long as Tony is safe.

‘’I’ll see if I can find them,’’ he says. Surely, Tony will forgive him for yesterday, and they can go back to what they had before. They will find a way.

Maybe things will become just a bit brighter now.

~*~

The sky is a cool blue, when Tony finally opens his eyes. Underneath him, something is moving, rough wood scathing his skin. He’s lying between sacks of flour, from the feel of it, somewhere in a cart pulled by horses.

He tries to move, but his ankles and wrists are painful and sore, the rope having been tightly knotted around them. Not even talking will work, with the rag of fabric having been stuck in his mouth. He can’t spit it out, but it’s been in that position long enough for his jaw to hurt, and he can feel spit on his chin.

Mostly, however, the clawing pain in his chest overrides everything else.

He wriggles and turns, in as far as his body will allow him to, and eventually the cart stops moving. All he can do is wait, and see if he’s been noticed. If he can get away, or do _anything_.

Why hadn’t he noticed his assailants earlier? How could he have been so stupid? For months, he’s had guards and Knights following his every movement, and because nothing had happened, he’d thought himself safe.

He remembers the sword pointed at his throat when he’d left the Palace. He doesn’t remember being knocked out, nor being stabbed, or whatever happened to his chest. The pain is worse than anything he could have imagined, though, and there’s no doubt in his mind as to how he’d lost consciousness.

Even the familiarity of the blue sky is taken away from him when someone appears above him - an unfamiliar figure, waving and shouting at him in a language Tony doesn’t know. It sounds like Ment, but he has trouble figuring it out. This is a kidnapping, however, and the man doesn’t seem exactly friendly.

Tony tries to just stare back - he’s not afraid. He’s the crown prince of Veston, and he will find a way back home - back to his father, to Obi, and to his friends. Rhodey will punch him in the face for getting taken and Pepper will cry and hold him.

Stephen - maybe Stephen will just stare at him with that look on his face, the one that Tony still can’t fully comprehend. He thinks it means something good, though, that it’s something warm and comforting. He thinks it means that Tony is wanted, in any capacity Stephen is willing to want him in, and that he’s welcome. That he’ll be guarded.

He will find a way back, and he will see them all again.

Tony closes his eyes before he can be knocked out again, and prepares himself for a long wait. The blood flows lazily from his chest, each drop falling on the floor like clock-work, and Tony counts the quiet ticks until he loses consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a long chapter to make up for not posting for a long time. sorry. life is hectic.


	10. Red / I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for past torture.

‘’Rhodes!’’

The Knight turns at the sound of Stephen’s voice, his armour rattling at the sudden halt. A weak smile appears on his face, however, as he nods at the sorcerer.

‘’Stephen. Good to see you around.’’

‘’Sure,’’ Stephen agrees, and tilts his head. ‘’Look, I know you’re busy - but do you have time to talk for a bit? I just - I want to see if I can help.’’

Rhodes sighs. ‘’I’ve got a lot of help from the Sanctum already. It’s all dead ends, Stephen. And every time I go out there, the clock is ticking, and all traces are fading away.’’

‘’There has to be something,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Tony didn’t just disappear into nowhere. Menteri cannot hide him forever.’’

‘’It seems you’ve got your own places to be, and I have a new expedition planned.’’

Rhodes always has a trip planned. Ever since Tony disappeared, more than two months ago, the Knight of Virtue has been off scouring Menteri. Accompanied by several other Knights, both of Virtue and Vice, and the occasional Master, they have been searching for their prince relentlessly.

Stephen wishes he could help, but he’s not allowed to come. There are other things he must do here - together with the Ancient One and several others, he has become part of a group he would rather not belong to: the King’s war council.

Things had all happened rather fast after word got out about Tony’s disappearance. Considering it was the night after the ball, there had been a few rumours about Tony just packing up and leaving all by himself. There had been signs of a struggle, however, and all of Tony’s stuff had remained. No food had disappeared, and he hadn’t taken a weapon. 

Skoltia had been first to be named as the evildoer, but the Knights of Vice had quickly dispelled that little lie and convinced the King that it was their new ally, Menteri, who had betrayed Veston and taken the heir to the throne captive.

That is, assuming Tony is still alive. No one can be certain, even if Menteri’s dark deeds had been uncovered earlier than they would have liked. It had only taken a day for the agreements and alliances to be undone and for Howard to declare war. A war council was only a natural consequence, and the Ancient One definitely was the only sorcerer who needed to join it for certain.

Stephen had been half-dressed already to go with Rhodes to try and catch up with Tony’s kidnappers. He’d fumed at the Ancient One for more than an hour before she’d calmed him down enough to convince him that there is no other place for him to be than at the King’s table, a Master in his council. It hadn’t mattered much, because Rhodey had already left when Stephen was done.

And here they are, two months later. Stephen is one of the strategists of Veston’s army and is to help with infiltration techniques and attack plans. There is still no sign of the man they went to war for, and each day, the hope of finding him becomes slimmer.

It’s visible in the tightening of Rhodes’ eyes, and Stephen fears.

‘’Good luck, in that case,’’ Stephen offers, and tries not to sound too defeated. ‘’Who are you taking this time?’’

‘’Steve, Clint and Natasha. Though I’m hoping I’m not making a mistake bringing Steve. He’s been asking me to help, but I don’t - wait. You don’t know about that, do you?’’

Stephen raises his eyebrows. ‘’It’s easy to forget that I’ve been here for only half a year, isn’t it?’’

‘’Feels like it’s been an eternity since all of this started,’’ Rhodes sighs, and rubs his eyes for a moment. ‘’Well, it’s not like it’s a huge secret. Steve lost a friend, a few years ago. Another Knight of Vice, Bucky Barnes. Also kidnapped, but by Skoltia, back then. They found him, but he died shortly after in a battle. I don’t think Steve ever fully recovered. I just hope this doesn’t give him any flashbacks. I need everyone to be fully focused on this.’’

‘’I don’t know Rogers that well, but I think he’ll do fine,’’ Stephen offers in sympathy. ‘’He knows the risks. He’ll be sharp, Rhodes. You can count on your Knights. Good luck with your mission. I do hope to see you again soon.’’

‘’So do I,’’ Rhodes mutters, and then he’s off. Stephen stares after him for a moment, wondering when he’ll see the Knight again. If he’ll have found Tony, next time they meet. He truly hopes so. 

The image of Tony leaving his chambers flits before his eyes, and Stephen forcefully gets rid of the thought before he makes his way down to the council room. It’s where he spends most of his time these days.

He’s early, but he’s not the first one there. The Ancient One is already seated, her fingers tapping on the wood as she cheerfully looks up. ‘’Good afternoon, Stephen,’’ she greets him, leaning back to watch him. ‘’How is your query going?’’

‘’Slow,’’ Stephen mutters, sitting down with more force than he intended. ‘’I find it hard to believe you haven’t Mastered Mind for yourself, however. Why are you making me do this again?’’

‘’You need the practice,’’ the Ancient One waves away, ‘’and besides, you’re far less conspicuous than I am. So, still no mole to be found, is that right? Are you sure you’ve scared them into thinking about it already?’’

It’s a method that the rest of the war council isn’t aware of. Perhaps the entire reason she is here earlier is to grill him about it. Stephen sighs, only just barely stopping himself from letting his head rest on the table.

‘’I don’t need to learn Reality,’’ he repeats for the umpteenth time. 

‘’So you keep saying,’’ the Ancient One says. It’s almost as if she doesn’t understand that Stephen is _bothered_ by this. He needed to learn Space and being a Master of it - it just makes plain sense, all things considered. After the price he paid for Space, however, he had to Master Mind. He did that, too, and the price he paid for _that_ -

Was losing Tony his price to pay? Is losing colours not just enough? Or do colours come with something more meaningful? Stephen hasn’t figured it out yet. Every time he is reminded that yellow is beyond his sight, however, he can only think of Tony’s nightmare. How scared he was of Stephen leaving, and then it was Tony who disappeared instead.

Stephen will never learn to appreciate irony.

‘’Then stop trying to make me,’’ he says. ‘’I’ve Mastered three Aspects now. That’s half of the colours. Do you want my entire world to go grey, Master?’’

‘’I’m simply trying to make your life easier,’’ the Ancient One says firmly. ‘’Stephen, listen to me. Using Reality will allow you to frighten any potential moles into thinking about what they did - thoughts you can then pick up with Mind. The longer you wait, the smaller our chance is.’’

Stephen opens his mouth to respond, but the door opens and the King enters with the remaining councillors before he can say anything. Howard Stark has never looked happy as long as Stephen has known him, but the thunderous expression on his face is a fixed thing, now.

‘’When can we leave to crush Menteri and find my son?’’ is the first thing out of his mouth.

The Ancient One barely even moves, though she focuses on the King now. ‘’We have a few options,’’ she says, and the council begins. 

~*~

It’s odd, the way that temperature works in the cave. Tony isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to it, but he’ll certainly relive it in dreams. At least he’s not having nightmares, here, though that may just be because even being here is a living nightmare all by itself.

‘’How far along are you?’’ Yinsen asks, peering over his shoulder to watch the armour.

Tony pushes him away weakly, still not fully back to his health. Yinsen had done what he could for his chest injury, but Tony had been near death when he’d arrived in Menteri. It had taken all of Yinsen’s potions and spells to get him back to a semblance of breathing, but the damage to his heart had been done, with no going back.

The metal plate over his chest, buzzing with the energy of the Mystic Arts that can only be heard when all else is silent, reminds him of that.

‘’It still needs some work,’’ Tony says, running his hands over the smooth metal of his creation. ‘’But she’ll be finished before they suspect a thing, I promise. We’ll be out of here in no time.’’

Tony has spent many of his years making weapons. He can’t remember now why he hadn’t thought about making defence, instead. And it had been made so easy for him - his attackers had given him anything he wanted, as long as he promised to make them some weapons.

He isn’t sure how he got a reputation as smith in the darkest corners of this land, nor how they exactly they got their hands on his weapons, but there’s little use in wondering about it. They haven’t said anything about his status as a prince, and he doesn’t think they’ve asked for money. All in all, Tony isn’t really sure about why he was kidnapped at all. He is hardly the only smith in the world, even if he’s good at what he does.

The group that took him are the Ten Rings, Yinsen has told him, and he’s been in their hands for just a little over two months. They are rebels from Menteri, though Yinsen hadn’t been able to tell him what, exactly, they were rebelling against. The whole situation had been rather vague, but Tony had accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to get any answers here.

Asking questions only angered his captors, that’s for sure. And while Tony isn’t planning on giving up so easily, there are certain things that he never wants to live through again. Being drowned is definitely one of them.

He thinks about gasping for breath, his head forced down in the cold liquid, thinking he was going to die. He remembers the bruises on his neck from where they held him so tightly as he struggled, forcing him to gulp in the water instead of air. He thinks of how he slumped on the floor, his lungs on fire and hyperventilating, only Yinsen’s soft voice to calm him down.

This is not how he will end.

Yinsen runs his fingers along the cooling metal, its shape and form so rudimentary and yet so well-crafted. It’s the best Tony can do in this environment. The Ten Rings do not care for decoration - they only care about brutal strength and endurance. Tony will craft something for them that no sword will slash and no arrow will pierce, and he will remind them that he is just as fierce as the best armour he can create.

The cave will be just a memory in due time, he tells himself. He will take Yinsen and destroy the Ten Rings, and he’ll burn the swords and shields they have of his. He will march back to Veston, if he has to, and he’ll find his friends. He’ll finally see them again.

He thinks of Stephen’s clear blue eyes fixed on him, and tries not to feel too lonely.

‘’It’s exquisite work, Stark,’’ Yinsen says. Tony likes that the man has never used his title, even if he knows for certain that Yinsen is fully aware of who he is. It’s not something they’d felt the need to discuss.

‘’I know,’’ he says easily, and smiles grimly before he turns away. ‘’I probably need to get back to working, before they start wondering what we’re doing all day.’’

Yinsen nods thoughtfully. ‘’Take it easy. You’re still not fully well.’’

How could he be? His chest aches continuously, even if Yinsen had done all he could. He was no Master, though - sorcerers worked differently in Menteri. In fact, they did not have many sorcerers at all. Tony isn’t sure what happens to the children with the aptitude, but he doubts they get any formal education past losing the blindness that they are born with.

Yinsen uses some magic, though. He hasn’t Mastered anything, but he knows all basic forms and spells. He has no clear division of Aspects for what he does, though Tony is aware enough that it is Space that keeps him alive. The metal plate on his chest glows a soft blue, and Tony knows well enough what Aspect that colour belongs to.

He tries not to think about Stephen on the ground, his hands bleeding. _Tony, where did blue go?_

Tony only has the vaguest memories of Yinsen saving him. He remembers screaming - and he remembers the pain, most of all. What he doesn’t remember is being stabbed in his chest. It hadn’t been all according to plan, he’d gathered. What was supposed to be a clean and quick way to injure him just enough to keep him quiet on the way to Menteri had almost become his death. Yinsen used Space to keep the blood running where it’s supposed to go.

The only thing that Tony doesn’t know is how continuous the spell is. Yinsen had said that the spell should maintain itself from now on and the injury wouldn’t become worse unless someone messed with his magic defence. Tony hasn’t ever seen any sorcerer keep their magic going for that long.

Maybe Menteri does things differently, however. He should ask Stephen, if he gets back. _When_ he gets back.

Tony just nods at Yinsen, and goes back to work.

~*~

There is a thing about the space underneath the stairs. The dust makes it hard to breathe and the darkness ensures that no one will be able to see anything. And yet, Stephen has spent most of his time here, the past few weeks. It’s the perfect space for some spying.

The Knights of Vice are looking for the mole - Stephen knows that much. However, the Ancient One always has her reasons for something. She wants him to Master Reality now, though Stephen has managed to refuse so far, in order to find the mole. It makes him believe that there might be no other way. Even so, he’s not just going to give in without at least trying.

He likes red. He hadn’t realized how much he liked red until she started mentioning Reality. The world is a duller place, these days. He can’t see green, nor blue, nor yellow. He still has the warm hues to keep him company - red, purple, orange, all shades in between. 

Is she going to stop before he Masters all Aspects? Stephen doesn’t know why she keeps pressing the matter so much - it’s not as if anyone has ever Mastered everything before. In fact, no one ever will, considering Soul can’t be taught. If nothing else, Stephen will always have orange.

He’d prefer to do this without losing any more colours, however. So he sits beneath the stairs, eyes pressed close and legs crossed. The world hums around him, thoughts straying out to him. He has been doing this for days, and all he’d figured out is that the maids are the most stressed persons in existence and that the red wine of yesterday’s dinner was universally unliked.

A few guards pass by - one secretly glad they didn’t make the rank of Knight of Virtue a few years back with all the commotion going on, the other mostly bored and thinking about his wife at home. Stephen quickly focuses on another floor. His reach has improved a lot, ever since he Mastered Mind - he can easily read the minds of two whole levels, if he tries hard. 

There’s dozens of nobles who are just going over their day. Even if the mole passes by, Stephen will not know unless they are actively thinking about their betrayal. This is why he must learn Reality, according to the Ancient One. By changing Reality, he can force their thoughts to move a certain way. If he creates a vision of the prince, standing in the doorway, the mole will be sure to show their treacherous thoughts.

Is he a coward for not learning Reality? Would he have caught the mole already, if he had? The guilt has been drowning him for all the months - since the moment he heard that Tony had been taken. 

He sits there for hours, thoughts of others numbing his own. His own frustration adds an edge, though, as the feel of uselessness overrules all else. What has Stephen found out, so far? They’re no further than they were.

It takes him two more hours before he decides this endeavour is fruitless. His thighs ache from the sudden change in position as he raises from the floor and throws open the hatch none too gently, leaving his sheltered position. His stomach is growling and he will have missed dinner - not an unusual occurrence, but it means he’ll have to make a detour and go by the kitchen before he can make it to the next of the war councils.

King Howard will probably be none too pleased that he hasn’t thought of any further additions to their current plan of infiltrating Menteri, but that’s just too bad. The king has had it out for him since he came here, and despite Stephen being in the war council, their relationship hasn’t exactly improved.

With a grumbling stomach and his thoughts somewhere else, Stephen bumps into someone. He is disoriented for a second, grabbing the man’s arm before he falls over, before he recognizes him.

‘’Sir Killian,’’ he says, vaguely remembering the diplomat with the strong jawline and the slicked-back blond hair from the ball. ‘’I’m so sorry.’’

‘’Oh, it’s just as much my fault,’’ the diplomat says with a short laugh, patting his clothes as if he fell on the floor. ‘’Master Strange, wasn’t it?’’

‘’We met at the ball,’’ Stephen offers, and holds in his frown as he feels - something, coming from Killian. The faintest disturbance in his thoughts.

‘’Certainly, I remember,’’ he says then, still a charming smile painted on his face. ‘’How could I forget?’’

Stephen does his best not to frown as he deepens his connection to Mind. ‘’The prince introduced us,’’ he says, and there it is - some annoyance, but also something else. Aldrich Killian wants to get away from him, and not just because of boredom or other matters he should attend to. Killian has been _avoiding_ him, and it’s because he doesn’t want Stephen to mysteriously figure something out.

There’s a secret here, and it’s connected to Tony. 

‘’I know,’’ Killian says, and to his credit, there is no exasperation in his voice at all. ‘’I’m sorry that I can’t talk for any longer, but I have to go, Master Strange. There is a lot of work to be done for diplomats in time of war, you see.’’

‘’Certainly for those connected to Menteri,’’ Stephen replies dryly, and Killian just smiles in response. It seems like all he does is smile - even if there’s something lingering underneath there. The thought is guarded well, however, and Stephen can’t quite catch it. It’s not guarded enough to maintain the illusion of it being anything else but a secret, and that’s exactly what Stephen needs to figure out.

He watches Killian disappear around the corner and starts hatching a plan.

~*~

‘’It’s a plan based on nothing more than a hunch,’’ King Howard says, eyes narrow. The spots of age on his face are only all the more visible in the candle light, but he looks just as shrewd as ever. 

Stephen stays seated, his hands folded on his lap. They haven’t trembled ever since he Mastered Mind, but he knows they would if he lost even an ounce of control.

‘’I know,’’ he says eventually. ‘’But it is a hunch that could lead to our victory over Menteri. The Mantri knows just as well that this is war, my King. He will not be sitting by idly. Our attacks will be met by defences, and any fight will know losses. If my hunch is right -’’

‘’He might know where Anthony is,’’ Howard says, and leans against the table. It’s just the two of them - except it’s not, in a way. The entire kingdom rests on the King’s shoulders - and his son’s life. It has never been as clear as it is now, and Stephen allows himself to feel a shred of sympathy for the old man. He may not be a good father, but there is a part of him that cares.

If only he’d known to show it to Tony.

‘’Any information is welcome at this point, my King,’’ Stephen says. He doesn’t want to give the man any false hope.

Howard sighs, his face grim. ‘’Some Kings may have called it treachery, Master Strange. Some might have had your head for it. You know this very well, and yet you will not tell me who you believe the mole to be. A daring move on your part.’’

‘’My King, you are a wise and shrewd fighter,’’ Stephen leans forward, meeting the King’s gaze. ‘’Your advisors are equally so, but none of you are trained to ignore such a blatant threat. I need to bend Reality - right here, in the Palace. It will take me a while to find the right sorcerers for the job, as I’m not a Master of Reality. If you or anyone else gives any sign of knowing who the mole is, the entire plan is in jeopardy.’’

Howard doesn’t look away for a few long moments. ‘’And the Sorcerer Supreme agreed to your plan?’’

She’d wanted him to try and bend Reality, but Stephen had managed to ward her off. Time is of the essence, after all, and even she had been unable to disagree with that sentiment. If only she hadn’t smiled so knowingly afterwards, as if she’d known what Stephen is going to do. Where he is going to go for help.

‘’She did. There are some sorcerers already who she thinks are up for the job.’’

‘’I have some ideas of my own, but I’ll write them up and have them sent to you tomorrow. You have three days to make it happen, Master Strange. After that, I will take matters in my own hand.’’

It is more than Stephen expected. Three days - well, he can work with that. Rising from his seat, he nods at the King.

‘’I will not disappoint you,’’ he tells him, but in his mind’s eye, all he can see is Tony.

~*~

It fits perfectly against his chest, although the pain still endures. The wound beneath the Arc is gruesome, healing very slowly, and still very capable of killing him. 

At least he can work with this, however. The Arc stays plastered to his chest, the blue glowing brighter than the metal that was stuck to him before. He won’t have to walk around with an entire chest-piece under his clothes, one that wasn’t anywhere near as comfortable as the Arc is. Even if Tony wishes that the Arc wasn’t necessary, either.

‘’It looks magnificent,’’ Yinsen says, his face pale in the eerie blue light. ‘’It conducts the magic even better than I could have wished for. How did you make this?’’

Tony isn’t really sure why it’s such a masterpiece. He knows about metals, and he knows how to use them. Vibranium, however, is much of a myth in Veston. He knows his father had a bit of it lying around and played with it when he was younger, but he hadn’t ever seen it. Not until the Ten Rings had stolen it from Veston and brought it with them.

‘’I wasn’t sure it’d work,’’ he says, running his fingers along the Arc. ‘’My dad used to tell me that vibranium is the strongest metal in the world - that it had properties no other material had. I don’t understand why they let me use it.’’

Yinsen looks pensive for a few moments. ‘’I don’t think they know how valuable it is,’’ he says. ‘’Vibranium does not come from this continent, Stark. No one else has it - not Skida, not Skoltia, not even Asgard. I’ve only heard that it was stolen from a land in the south beyond the seas - a nation, hidden in a forest, with wealth and knowledge unlike our own. Wakanda, it is called, I’ve been told. But I don’t know if it’s anything more than a myth.’’

Stolen from a land in the south. Tony doesn’t know how the King came by the material, but he’s fully willing to believe it wasn’t exactly a fair trade. It was before he was even born, though, and he has never heard of Wakanda. It might be worth looking into, when he gets back. Perhaps they can find a way to trade - and do it fairly, this time.

‘’There is still some left,’’ he mutters, his mind racing with the possibilities. ‘’We should use it in the armour. If it’s as strong as my father told me it is, no weapon should be able to touch it.’’

‘’Stark, I need to tell you something.’’

Yinsen just sits down after his words, staring into the sputtering little fire they’ve built for themselves in the middle of the cave. It gets cold, after all, and Tony spends most nights shivering despite the added warmth. 

Tony follows suit, sitting down next to the willowy man as he pulls at his gloves. Yinsen stares at him, silent for a few long moments. 

‘’What is it?’’ Tony presses eventually. 

‘’Veston is at war,’’ Yinsen says at once. ‘’I overheard some of our captors talking. King Howard has declared war with Menteri, blaming the Mantri for your disappearance.’’

‘’What?’’ Tony exclaims. Veston at war over him - he hadn’t believed it’d actually happen. ‘’But this isn’t the Mantri’s doing, is it? The Ten Rings - they’re not -’’

‘’I’m not sure what the Ten Rings are or are not to the Mantri,’’ Yinsen interferes. ‘’I thought you should know. We will escape, Stark, before this war escalates into more conflict. You’ll go back to your family.’’

‘’We both will,’’ Tony reminds him forcefully. Yinsen smiles at him weakly, and gives a quiet nod. Tony will not let it be any other way - Yinsen is the reason he is still alive. Yinsen has shown him what is important in life, and he’s taught him so much in the worst place of Tony’s life. Yinsen has gotten him through this torture and pain.

Tony will see him free. He will.

‘’Perhaps a shield,’’ Yinsen says all of a sudden, looking towards the precious metal. ‘’There is not enough vibranium for the entire armour, but a shield might be useful.’’

‘’A shield,’’ Tony repeats.

Sure. He can make a shield.

~*~

Kamar-Taj is exactly how Stephen remembers it. Except that in his memories, the halls aren’t nearly as desolate. The echoes of his footsteps give away his presence to the woman sitting in the fighting hall. Two rings are there, all set up and ready for trainees to practice their combat skills.

There’s not many trainees left.

‘’Good afternoon, senior Palmer.’’

The woman exhales. ‘’Why are you here, Stephen?’’

Christine has grown up in the months that Stephen has been in the Palace. When she turns to him, she is as familiar as she’s always been, except for the tiredness in her eyes. More than anyone else, Christine always managed to do everything that everyone needed her to do. She worked with Stephen in the healing wings, when he was training here, but she’d done much more than that.

Stephen had always joked her extracurriculars would stand in the way of her becoming a Master. Seeing her sit here, more competent than ever and still without a title, it’s not really funny anymore. Perhaps it never was, and he’d just been too much of an inconsiderate bastard to realize it.

‘’Because I needed to see you.’’

Christine slowly rises from the floor. Her hair falls in front of her face, the brown locks out of place. Her tunic looks old, and it’s not a colour that Stephen can see anymore. He suspects it’s blue - she always had a fondness for it. Perhaps that’s why she had refused to become a Master of Space, even when she showed aptitude for it.

‘’I thought you’d be far too busy,’’ Christine says, and it’s not mocking, as it might have been for others. It never would be - Christine is the kindest person that he knows. She had been his friend, in as far as he’d had friends in the Sanctum. He’d had Mordo, rigid and knowledgeable in the Mystic Arts, and he’d had Christine - good and kind and wise beyond her years.

‘’Why are you still here?’’ he blurts out, and takes a step towards her. ‘’Christine, there’s so many things going on. We need every sorcerer available. Most of the trainees are at the Sanctum now, ready to fight for Veston. You’re talented and we need you there. I think that _I_ need you there.’’

Christine shakes her head, but closes the distance between them to embrace him. ‘’Stephen, do you remember when you were here? You spent so many years training so hard - to be the best sorcerer in Kamar-Taj, and to Master your chosen Aspect as soon as you could. You never stopped to think that I might not be as eager as you. I don’t want to go to the Sanctum. I want to stay here. Help the other sorcerers acclimatize - take care of everyone here. Not everyone dreams as big as you.’’

Stephen watches her for a few moments. Her eyes are sincere - she doesn’t want more. She never has, and he had been such a bad friend that he had never realized. She just wanted to help people - here.

‘’You’ve heard of the prince’s disappearance?’’ he asks.

Christine frowns. ‘’I have, but what does that have to do with anything?’’

Nothing, except that Stephen needs to find him back. Needs to see him alive, and hold him, and tell him that Stephen will always be on his side. He remembers Tony walking out on him, so upset and so miserable about the ball and his future.

_Please stay._

He thinks about Tony looking at him after he’d said that, an ocean of regrets in his eyes.

_I can’t._

He should have insisted. He should have taken him by his arm and kissed him - he should have known by then. Stephen is an idiot, and Tony has paid the price. He should have promised him that he’d stay - that he’d always stay, as long as he was welcome. All this time, Stephen has been ignoring his own feelings.

He doesn’t need Tony back because he’s the prince. He needs him back because Stephen never wants to leave his side again.

‘’I need to find him,’’ Stephen says, and if his voice trembles - well, Christine won’t judge him for it. ‘’And for that, I need to learn Reality. You have to teach me. Please.’’

The frown on her face deepens. ‘’Stephen, you’ve already Mastered Time. What do you want to learn Reality for? I haven’t even Mastered it myself yet.’’

‘’Only because you don’t want to,’’ Stephen replies. ‘’Because you know just how far you can go without achieving Mastery and leaving Kamar-Taj. And it is that kind of control that I need to learn. I don’t want to Master it - I want to get right to that edge. I need it, Christine. I would not ask you if it wasn’t necessary.’’

She regards him for a few long moments. There is no danger in teaching him - most students have already moved to the Sanctum for the moment, ready to assist with the war. Only the youngest students and the caretakers remain - and Christine.

‘’Alright,’’ she says. ‘’But I’m warning you that Reality is difficult to learn.’’

Stephen grins. ‘’Difficult is good.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished my dissertation. well, kinda, but it's mostly done, so I finally have time to write again! hopefully updates will come a bit faster from now on. I'll _try_ to be faster, at any rate.


	11. Red / II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for waterboarding and a villain monologue

One starts noticing odd things, in times of crisis. To divert yourself from the pain and fear of imminent death - details that wouldn’t matter on a larger scale, all things considered.

After all, Tony reflects, who would care that the water tastes rusty? Who would care that it was warmer than usual drinking water, but colder than bathing water? Who would care that Tony’s hair, when drying, will have bits of dirt and who-knows-what-else in it?

He is hoisted up and takes his breath in that moment, but breathing is hard when his body is also trying to get rid of all the water in his lungs. His heart beats so loudly that he can hardly hear his captors talking - or perhaps that’s the water in his ears. Perhaps it’s the shock.

Water drips over the Arc in his chest, and he panics when his heart aches. He cannot die here. He cannot die like this.

‘’You are slow,’’ his captor says, talking slowly and enunciating extra clearly. Tony wishes he knew what the other men around him are babbling about so angrily. He knows Menteri - he recalls the thousand of grammar lessons, at the very least, that he was forced to take as an impressionable child - but this seems to be a fairly deviating dialect of some sort. 

‘’I’m working on it,’’ Tony wheezes, and he doesn’t mind sounding so panicked anymore. ‘’It just - it takes time, I don’t have my usual tools, I’m still injured. Just wait, and I’ll make you your weapons. I will, I swear.’’

‘’Good,’’ the man says, and smiles. ‘’We want to kill your country with them.’’

And just for good measure, Tony’s head goes in the water again. The rusty water is mixed with a bit of salt as he presses his eyes closed, and he tries not to feel the burning in his chest as he focuses on the rough hand on his neck instead.

Their plan is almost finished. He and Yinsen can escape, as long as Tony survives drowning. He will survive.

~*~

‘’I have a hard time believing this,’’ Christine says, her arms crossed as she frowns at him. ‘’It took me almost a year to come this far with Reality. How does it take you two days? I know you’re talented, Stephen, but _two days_?’’

Talent is a part of it, of course - it has always played a role. But Stephen isn’t really sure how to explain this to her. He’d slowed Time around himself, giving him plenty of time to practice. Measuring how much time he’d actually taken is tricky - he estimates about two weeks. In that time, he’d also arranged for other things. 

Even in two weeks, however, he shouldn’t have been able to come as far as he did. And yet - whilst Reality may be hard to learn when you don’t know any other Aspect, all Mystic Arts come as easy as breathing to him now. 

He’d sharpened his Mind and he’d felt Kamar-Taj around with Space, and somehow - Reality had followed. It’s as if he has six gateways for each one of the Aspects, and the more gates are opened, the easier the others follow. He just _knows_ , intuitively, what he needs to do. What is important, and what is not.

‘’I did some practising beforehand,’’ he lies off-handedly, not rising from his seated position. Waving a gloved hand around, not trembling due to Mind, he destroys the illusion he’d cast. It shatters into another illusion, even realer than the one before. Layers of deception, Stephen has figured out, is the best way. 

Christine just eyes him. He doesn’t know if she believes him - he doesn’t know if she understands him at all, anymore. She used to be his greatest friend. There was a time she knew his mind better than he himself did, but that’s all in the past. In losing his colours, Stephen has gained more than just Mastery of the Mystic Arts. He found an understanding of what, exactly, it means to _be_ a Master.

She only has to move a finger, and Stephen’s illusion disappears before their eyes. Kamar-Taj is back. For a second, he wonders if she replaced his deception with one of her own - but this place is genuine. Christine knows Reality, but there isn’t a deceptive bone in her body.

‘’I wondered what you thought to learn in just three days,’’ she says quietly. ‘’I’m not sure what you did, in the Palace, and I don’t think I want to know. Stephen, just be careful.’’

‘’Of course,’’ he says smoothly and rises. If he isn’t careful, he will never save Tony. Veston will still be in danger. Stephen stands between his country and its destruction, along with the Knights of Vice and Virtue and the other sorcerers. He will stand there as long as he must.

‘’Good luck.’’

It sounds like a goodbye. Stephen knows he left Kamar-Taj behind, but that doesn’t mean he wants to leave Christine. 

‘’Come with me,’’ he asks. ‘’I need sorcerers who can deal with Reality. You can fight by my side.’’

A lopsided grin appears on her face, genuine and quiet. ‘’It’s the not the kind of fight that’s mine,’’ Christine shrugs. ‘’I belong here, Stephen. This is what I protect. I never wanted to fight - I just want to heal people. I just want to take care of the life there is, here. Just - go save Veston, will you?’’

Stephen nods. And because Christine has probably already figured him out, he creates the portal back to the Palace right in front of her. Her smile deepens - there is no deceiving her, even if she isn’t the one to delude anyone.

He disappears.

~*~

It’s all gone in a flash, as if in a dream. Yinsen puts him in the armour, and then he’s running, and Tony follows, and then Yinsen’s dying -

It’s a hurry, and Tony kills the men who held him and doesn’t even feel sorry.

He sets fire to their camp, and he’ll burn his own swords with their bodies, and that’s all he can fully remember about escaping. Mostly because he refuses to think about Yinsen, lying next to their captors in the fire.

Tony takes a step into the desert, fire burning behind him like the sun does above him.

~*~

Tony has never known sacrifice, if he thinks about it.

But then again, who does?

Tony knows loss - he knows grief and pain and that feeling of every emotion tangled in your chest, ready to suffocate the heart of whoever’s living through that kind of sensation. Drowning and burning and choking and feeling your heart bounce against your chest as if it wants to escape, and you don’t know if you want it to escape or if you want to fight back, but fighting is so tiring -

Tony has learnt to know pain better than anything else, these past few months in Menteri. But sacrifice - he still doesn’t know anything about that. And that’s why he feels so selfish, so incredibly egomaniacal, to cry when Yinsen dies.

Yinsen sacrificed his life so that Tony might live. He _chose_ that.

And Tony, like always, just loses. He has never had to give anything up - and to be frank, he doesn’t think he can. Not after all this.

His Arc glows blue in the desert, contrasting with the dusty sand. His throat is parched and he almost misses the waterboarding, if only so he wouldn’t have to be so thirsty. The armour that he made to escape is mostly gone, by now, only a part of its arm and a kneecap remaining. And there’s the shield, of course, the only thing still fully functioning, besides the Arc.

_There is not enough vibranium for the entire armour, but a shield might be useful._

Yinsen had been planning to die, even while advising Tony to protect himself. Then again, maybe it’s for the best. A dark thought, to be sure, but Tony doesn’t think he would like Yinsen to die so slowly and painfully in the never-ending desert of Menteri. 

His feet burn from the searing sand, but he takes one step, and then another. This is his hard-won freedom, and Tony will take it, even with the desert on his tongue and the scorching sun relentlessly bearing down on his dehydrated form.

One step, and then another. He’s not even sure what direction he is going anymore.

One step, and then another. He’s not even sure why he is walking anymore.

One step, and then another.

One step, and then he falls.

He gets up again, Yinsen whispering in his ear. Yinsen becomes Rhodey, and Rhodey becomes Pepper, and Pepper becomes Stephen.

One step, and then another.

~*~

The Ancient One is hidden in plain sight, as Stephen holds up his hands. Reality shines red between his finger tips, the bright light oozing out of his skin as he bends the way of the world. Two Masters of Reality stand beside him, as well as a Master of Space to be of extra assistance.

All in all, there was no way things could have gone differently.

‘’Insolent little prince!’’ Killian snarls at the image of Tony Stark that Stephen is creating. In his mind, every little detail is accounted for - every freckle on the prince’s face is where it should be, and the smirk on his face is exactly like the real one. Stephen knows his voice and his stance, and he has fooled Killian.

The other Masters of Reality have created an elaborate labyrinth. After all, they need to make sure Killian doesn’t get away. Quentin Beck and Jane Foster hold together the scenery while Stephen has created the image of Tony. The Master of Space, the silent Wong, is skilled enough to teleport them all where they need to be in the blink of an eye, enabling them to keep up the appearance and lead on their mole.

Whereas Killian may believe he is running after the prince in the emptied hallways of the Palace - well, he’s actually nearing the dungeon.

The King stands next to the Ancient One. Neither of them speak nor are they involved in the deception going on - they just look on, the father with an unspoken rage in his eyes. Stephen’s old Master, however, only has a glitter in her eye that doesn’t speak of what she thinks.

‘’You were supposed to be dead by now!’’

Killian’s cries have been varied and mad from early on - but this one stops Stephen in his tracks.

Dead?

With Stephen’s image of their prince stuttering out of existence, the other Masters look at each other. Stephen is well aware of their confusion - Quentin Beck, one of the younger Masters of Reality among them, frowns darkly at him. Jane Foster just seems thoughtful.

Killian stops, his hair tousled and his eyes wild. ‘’Where are you?’’ he shouts out, his voice hoarse from his earlier cursing. ‘’Where are you, you petty fool?’’

The Ancient One steps forward - with one hand, she banishes the deception. Three Masters of Reality become visible, the red glow disappearing from their hands as they step down. Wong stares impassively and Stephen looks away. Only the King follows the Ancient One, his eyes not leaving the mole’s face.

‘’Here we are,’’ the Ancient One says smoothly, and runs her finger over the dark tiles of the dungeon walls underneath the Palace. The place was emptied especially for this purpose.

Killian stares at Stephen for a single moment, comprehension dawning. He is many things, that diplomat, but he is not an idiot. 

‘’A trick,’’ he mutters. 

‘’You’re going to die for this,’’ Howard Stark shouts, stepping forward. His fists are white as he clenches them - the grey of his hair seems to flash with the light of the flames on the wall. His years seem to disappear in front of Stephen’s eyes - suddenly the King is a vicious young warrior, though his grief is old as time.

Tony will never reach this age. Tony is, apparently, dead. Where? An unmarked grave, to be sure, and Stephen’s breath catches. 

Killian hardens in the face of danger - or perhaps he is just mad. He laughs, and it echoes in this place. ‘’You can kill me if you want,’’ the diplomat offers. ‘’It will do nothing to save you, in the end. It’s too late, my King. It has been too late even before you considered there was anything that you might be too late _for_.’’

‘’Why is that?’’ Foster asks.

The Ancient One shakes her head. ‘’You think you are very smart, Sir Aldrich Killian,’’ she comments. ‘’But even smart men suffer in dark prisons. And you are not so smart, I believe, to think you will outrun us. To think that you _can_.’’

‘’They always said you were so wise,’’ the diplomat sneers at her. ‘’And all these years, I was right under your nose! You are not wise - you just like _riddles._ ’’

‘’Enough!’’ the King barks. ‘’Tell me where my son is, and do not let out any details.’’

‘’Somewhere buried in the sand in Menteri, in all likelihood.’’ Killian sounds far too gleeful for Stephen to comprehend. He can’t even speak - he can only see the light of the flames licking at Killian’s pale skin, and he understands that Killian is more than a pawn. He looks far too proud - he is far too deceptive. The thought of having been caught does not seem to bother Killian all that much.

No matter how strong, men always fear death. Killian must be a high enough power to be guaranteed of safety. There is something _more_ , and now he can feel more than a secret shining like a beacon in Killian’s mind. It’s not just a secret, but it’s a plot that has been going on for years. Buried and simmering in the depths of this diplomat’s imagination, the horrendous knowledge of all that is to happen to Veston. To bring it down. And no one had known.

‘’You arranged it,’’ Stephen finds himself saying. ‘’The Mantri - you have pull with him. You started all this, and you mean to finish it.’’

‘’And to think I almost started to think you were as gullible as the others. Yes, Master Strange, I do have pull with the Mantri.’’ Killian smiles, unconcerned. He straightens out his tunic - a colour that Stephen can no longer see, but its threads shine a pure golden - and his eyes are almost manic in the firelight.

This may have been a mistake, Stephen is beginning to realize. This may have been a trap inside a trap.

‘’Then we have a hostage,’’ the King says, but there is a telling tremor in his voice. Five Masters of the Mystic Arts and the King of Veston versus one diplomat, and the odds are not in their favour.

‘’We do not,’’ the Ancient One murmurs before Killian can even open his mouth. ‘’He knew we would figure him out. In fact, I believe we highly disappointed him by figuring it out this late.’’

Killian tilts his head, his eyes mockingly big, almost regarding them as if they are particularly naive children. ‘’I grant you, Howard, your biggest achievement is that you always manage to surround yourself with those far cleverer than yourself. For all your academic achievements in your youth, you seem oblivious to your immediate surroundings. I admit, this started out as - well, what’s the word? Envy, comes to mind, and rage. But now, it’s purely business. Brains are worth more than pure strength, I have found during my travels to Menteri.’’

‘’You are gloating,’’ Stephen says, and he steps forward, feeling his own anger bubble up. ‘’Speak, you worm, or I will make you speak!’’

‘’I _am_ the Mantri now,’’ Killian says, and his eyes darken. ‘’And that man sitting on Menteri’s throne is just my figurehead - for my own amusement, you see. And your son is dead, Stark, and your country betrayed to its doom. And come dawn, you will all be dead.’’

And Time just - stops.

Stephen looks around. No one is using the Aspect - everyone is paused, motionless, timeless. Killian is still grinning, and Stephen finds himself lifting his hands. They are trembling, but not because of his injury, this time.

Grief is beyond the grasp of Mind.

He is not Master of Power. The deadliest of Aspects, it is often called, merely because it relies on brute force. But even if he can’t rip apart Killian with Power - well, Reality might undo him. Mind can kill, if he so desires. Stephen has never wanted to kill. He still doesn’t want to kill - only to save.

_Somewhere buried in the sand in Menteri._

He has never been this mad.

The air trembles, and a portal appears. Sparks that are grey to Stephen and will be blue to everyone else - he knows how this will go. Killian preaches the importance of allies, only because he has found good ones for himself.

Understanding dawns on him. Killian is a diplomat who reached beyond his own capabilities, and someone answered. Someone who could give him the power that he wanted, if only Killian avenged the slights he’d dealt with.

A portal closes over the diplomat, and Time resumes its normal pace. Stephen tries to reach for him, but he’s too late - it’s all been for nothing, this entire plot. Killian has been whisked out of their grasp by an ally who already knew what would happen, and so is their chance to find more answers. Stephen forces the potent mix of Reality and Mind out of his body, and the Ancient One looks at him. He can feel her gaze, even if he does not look back.

‘’You knew this would happen,’’ he says in the stunned silence of the dungeons. 

She lifts her chin as he looks upon her. ‘’I do not presume to know of what you speak, Master Strange, but I do know that this could not have gone any other way.’’

It’s almost as if she wants to console him. Stephen bites his tongue and tightens his fists.

‘’We will go to war,’’ Howard says, ignoring them. ‘’The council must come together. We will avenge my son’s death - Menteri will pay with a life for each drop of blood in Anthony’s body. I will see his head on a spike.’’

He marches past them, and Stephen almost wishes he couldn’t see the pale complexion on everyone’s faces. If only he could lose white - but hasn’t he lost enough? Foster and Beck follow their King, and Wong disappears after the Ancient One nods at him.

Only mere minutes ago, Stephen was convinced they’d found the mole and would know where Tony was. And now, all their plans are turned to dust.

‘’You knew,’’ he repeats, and tries to unclench his hands. The hoarseness of his voice is unexpected, his body tensing with grief.

The Ancient One is still for a few moments. ‘’I do not believe that the prince is dead,’’ she says gently. ‘’Aldrich Killian was an unexpected card, but he is not the player of this game. He cannot see all that lies before him. He is assisted by someone else - someone who has borrowed him this power, but will not let him keep it. Someone who has wanted to see Veston brought to its knees for a long time now. Someone who started when you were only a boy, yourself.’’

‘’He is the one behind Tony’s assassination,’’ Stephen bites. ‘’Why am I here? Why did you put me here? All this time, you’ve been telling me to Master Aspects, and I have. I’ve even learnt Reality, despite not becoming a Master. _Why am I here?’’_

‘’If you are to play the game, you must see all those who are in it,’’ she says, and the consolation is gone from her voice. Her eyes are hard and unrelenting.

‘’We’re not warriors!’’ he shouts at her, his throat aching even as the sound echoes. ‘’We are _protectors_! We do not play games, we follow orders! We protect Veston, with our Arts, with our Aspects, with our _lives_! Do not make me be something that I am not! Something that I _cannot_ be.’’

Her cloak rustles as she pulls it up to her. The orange is still clear, the only bright thing in this space now. She is so familiar, and yet so new to him. With every move she makes, Stephen starts to believe he never knew her at all.

She is playing the game. A game he hadn’t thought existed, before she mentioned it.

‘’Tony Stark is not dead,’’ she mutters, shaking her head to herself. ‘’You must make your own destiny, Stephen Strange - _make_ it, not merely follow. If I am making you into something you think you are not, it is merely because I have seen your potential. One day, you did, too.’’

‘’He said that he was dead,’’ Stephen retorts sharply. He doesn’t care for her vague words about who he is or is not - it is nothing she has not implied before. He is done caring about her perceptions of his future. All he cares about, right now, is if Tony is alive or not.

The Ancient One starts walking up the stairs. ‘’Do you truly think that a diplomat from Veston would be able to make that come about, whether he is the secret Mantri or not?’’ she calls out as she leaves. ‘’He wasn’t of a high enough rank in Veston to make the arrangements, Master Strange. No, Killian does not know where our prince is. But I think I have figured out who does.’’

Everyone that Stephen has met in court runs through his mind. All the Knights and nobles who have been in contact with Killian - those who would make those sort of connections. And since Killian has been here so long and has gone unnoticed for all those years that a plot was brewing -

_Someone who started when you were only a boy, yourself._

This all goes back to the death of Maria Stark.

~*~

One step, and then another.

One step, and then another.

The monotony of what has become Tony’s life is not lost on him. He had thought himself a prisoner in the Palace, in some ways. His life had been all thought out for him - marry a woman, become a father to secure his lineage, sit on the throne, try to do right, and then die. Not much had been up for debate.

If he returns, he’ll know that a gilded cage is still far better than one made of sand. He coughs but nothing comes out, and his breath is a ragged wheeze. This is a prison made of the repetition of steps, each one bringing him closer to his fate. 

One step, and then another.

The sun burns down on his face. He’d tried to protect himself with the shield, but he doesn’t have the strength to lift it above his head anymore. Tony doesn’t remember how long he has been walking, now. It must have become night, at one point, but he can’t quite remember.

He wonders, deliriously, if night-time exists in Menteri. 

Voices come closer. He’d thought he’d heard something, but nothing is here. He hadn’t needed to check, because nothing ever is here. Only him and the sand. 

And yet - why are the voices louder? Is this a sign he’s really going mad? Tony is rather surprised it took this long.

‘’Tony.’’ A hand brushes back his hair - little specks of sand fall out of it. When did he lie in the sand? When he slept? He doesn’t even know if he slept at all. His eyes are tired and his sight is blurry, he thinks, but it’s hard to know when all you can ever see is sand. Miles and miles, only sand.

Except this figure looks like Rhodey, his skin a warm hue and his eyes worried. Relief touches his lips, and he looks so real, but Tony knows his friend very well. His imagination is torturing him now.

‘’You’re in the way,’’ he mutters when Rhodey holds him back, stopping him from walking further. He falters and falls at the touch. 

‘’He’s delirious,’’ another form mutters, and is that Knight Romanoff? She kneels in front of him. The bridge of her nose is a redder than usual, and Tony would think her sunburnt, if illusions could be harmed by the sun.

Two others appear, and he would swear they are Barton and Rogers. ‘’You’re not real,’’ he says, and blinks at them. His tongue feels so heavy.

‘’Give him some water,’’ Rogers says, and the frown line above his eyebrows is so real. Tony doesn’t know Rogers that well, so why would he imagine him here? He wishes he would’ve imagined Stephen, with his light blue eyes and that perpetrating stare.

It’s Rhodey who tilts back his head and pours water in his mouth. And Tony may be going mad, but this - this is not an illusion. He can’t imagine this, because he’d almost forgotten the way that the liquid feels in his mouth. The way that a few drops become lost on his skin and drip down to his arms, and he shudders at the touch.

This is real. This is Rhodey, looking at him in concern, his hand brushing over Tony’s arm.

‘’Rhodey?’’ he whispers, and his friend embraces him tightly. ‘’How are you here?’’

‘’You were walking in the wrong direction, you idiot,’’ the Knight mutters, and Tony just chooses to ignore that statement and buries his face in Rhodey’s neck. The relief almost aches in his bones, as the anxiety-driven need to walk disappears.

Rhodey is here, and that means, always, that Tony is safe.

~*~

‘’I never thought much of you.’’

Stephen looks up to find the Master of Space standing there. Wong’s face is straightened out - not the slightest hint of emotion at everything that has occured. 

‘’Thanks,’’ Stephen mutters, and strokes the page of the book before him. The library has a sort of peace that cannot be found anywhere else, these days.

Wong sits beside him, the chair creaking under his weight. ‘’I taught you, once, in Kamar-Taj,’’ the man says gruffly. ‘’But you had already made up your mind about what Aspect you wanted to learn. The basics of all other Aspects - those you believed to be beneath you. But she believed in you, and your gifts.’’

‘’So you’re telling me I should be grateful for everything I owe to her?’’ he asks, and can’t help but huff. ‘’I’m sorry if I’m not inclined to shout my praises about her, right now.’’

Wong shrugs. ‘’I can’t tell you what to do or not. All I know is that we need our full strength, and you are being a fool for not lending it to us.’’

‘’I will not go to the war council,’’ Stephen says sharply, and closes his book abruptly.

Wong eyes it. ‘’There is an army in front of our door. That is what Killian meant, Master Strange. These are no riddles or mind games, no matter what you might think of the Sorcerer Supreme. People will die, today. Our people. The people we promised to protect.’’

An army. Stephen closes his eyes. Killian had promised they all would die, and he is now making good on it. How are they here, without anyone noticing? Menteri does not possess that many Masters, nor do the sorcerers in the East acknowledge the Aspects. They cannot use portals - not like the Masters of the Sanctum can.

‘’Reality,’’ he mutters. Reality could have hidden the army from their view, and as opposed to Space, there is only one Master required to cast such a spell.

If Wong understands what he thinks, he does not show it. ‘’Few people understand her methods, Master Strange. I’ve stopped questioning her, after a while, because I know that she wants what is best for Veston. And I think that you do, too.’’

The head of the Knights of Virtue is gone. Rhodey will never be back in time, even if he hears about the army on their doorstep. And he has taken a few of their most competent Knights with him, both of Virtue and Vice. Still, there are many fighters remaining. People who will defend their home.

‘’They cannot come in,’’ Stephen says heavily and rises from his chair. The book he was reading lies before him, its contents still a mystery. They will have to remain so for a while longer - there is a task for him here.

‘’We will keep them outside the gates,’’ Wong agrees, and nods. ‘’We’ll need a bit of Reality to manage that, I believe.’’

The cloak draped over Wong’s shoulders, like all Master’s, is red. Stephen mournfully regards the colour. If it comes to a true battle, Stephen does not care what Aspect he might have to use. If push comes to shove, he will Master Reality, if he has to. It’s his duty as a Master.

_Do you swear to use your abilities to protect your kingdom of Veston?_

It feels like a lifetime ago, Howard Stark asking him that question. Stephen Strange, bending his head in front of his King, just having lost green. So pleased to go to the Sanctum, only to find out he would not go.

And here he is. The threads in Wong’s case are blue, he supposes, since Wong is a Master of Space. Not that he can verify it - it’s just a mere guess, at this point. And before long, he might not have red anymore, either.

_If I gave something up, then it’s nothing in comparison of what I gained._

Once upon a time, not even so long ago, he’d truly believed that. For now, he will gain nothing except the maintained existence of his home. A sacrifice, some might call it. To Stephen, it just feels like loss.

He follows Wong out of the library, and into the start of the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised last chapter that I'd be faster about this but honestly I promise to be better. I've almost finished writing anyway, and there's some other WIPs on the way...


	12. Red / III

‘’It will be nigh impossible,’’ Romanoff says, her gaze somewhere off in the distance. Her mind is on the same place that Tony’s has been for months, now - and even now he is freed, he is still unable to go home.

Apparently, there’s an army between him and Ireningas.

‘’Fighting through is not an option,’’ Rogers agrees. ‘’We’ll be found and killed before we even find our way into Veston. The chance of being outnumbered is too big.’’

‘’We can’t wait around forever,’’ Rhodey says, a thoughtful frown decorating his face. He is the only one sitting, besides Tony, still holding a parcel of food. They’d already eaten, but the Knight of Virtue seemed to have little appetite.

Tony just listens to the four Knights discuss the possibilities. All of them want to bring him home - by all accounts, they have been trying to do so for three months. Ever since he disappeared, and the Mantri’s treachery came to light. 

He drums his fingers on the chair, trying to ignore the cold of the desert at night. Rhodey had given him two blankets, already, and fresh clothes. Even if he’s not back to his old self, yet, it’s far better than what he has had for the last couple of months. He has been more silent than he used to, he knows that, and he knows that it concerns his friend.

It’s hard to explain what has happened, though. Rhodey had glanced at his Arc, shining brightly underneath the rag he’d been wearing, but no one had commented on it yet. Tony doesn’t doubt that the questions will come as soon as the novelty of his presence wears off.

The Knights keep coming up with plans to return to Ireningas, each idea presented worse than the other. Tony just sighs. ‘’Why don’t we go to Dhilika?’’

The capital of Menteri. It seems the only logical thing to do, but all Knights turn a perplexed stare on the newly-retrieved prince.

‘’Dhilika is further east,’’ Barton says slowly. ‘’We need to return west, to Veston.’’

Tony is shaking his head even as the archer speaks. ‘’Eventually, yes. But we’re at war with Menteri, and the Mantri is the only one who can stop it. If we can convince him, there will be no need for war.’’

‘’We will never be in time,’’ Romanoff notes sharply, but her eyes lie on the east now. ‘’The war has already begun, whether we want it to or not. There’s no getting home in time - we saw the army between us and Ireningas. Even if we managed to convince the Mantri - which I highly doubt - there is no avoiding bloodshed. Before the news would reach the Mantri’s troops, the blow will already have been dealt.’’

Tony looks towards Rogers. In a way, the blond Knight is the opposite of Romanoff. Pragmatism versus idealism; efficiency versus morality; all of it, thinking on the best way to proceed. Rogers meets his gaze, his jaw tightening before he answers.

‘’Even if we cannot avoid every death,’’ Rogers says quietly, ‘’we must save as many as we can. All, if we can. We can’t win by going back directly to Ireningas. But even if our chances at convincing the Mantri are low, we have a duty to try.’’

‘’This is insane,’’ Barton mutters, but he doesn’t seem all too bothered. 

There’s only one more man whose opinion needs to be voiced. Rhodey sits, his meal crumbling between his fingers. 

‘’Tony is ill,’’ Rhodey begins eventually. ‘’Our first duty was to find our prince, and we have. Our second duty is to keep him safe. This is our priority - above interfering with this war. The coming battle is not our responsibility, and there will be others who strategize for us. Every day that Tony is gone is a day longer that our people’s hopes of his safe return fail. And hope is important, in a war.’’

‘’I’m well enough,’’ Tony protests, but Rhodey raises his hand.

‘’You’re not. You’re malnourished, and you’re tired, and you’re skittish. You keep touching your chest, and you haven’t yet told us who held you or where you came from. My first duty, Tony, as your friend and as your protector, is to keep you safe.’’

‘’Rhodey -’’

‘’The problem is,’’ Rhodey continues tersily, a sharp note entering his voice, cutting through Tony’s protest, ‘’is that I am not sure that Ireningas is the safest place for you to be. We will have to fight to get there, and a fight is not a place for you right now. Menteri’s alliance with us was good for them, Tony. This war is a total surprise. And if we continue east, we’ll find a settlement shortly. Perhaps there will be people there who are unhappy with this new development - people who will help us, if we tell them we are here to negotiate a new deal with the Mantri.’’

Tony regards his friend. Rhodey is apprehensive, and it is clear in the burrow of his frow. His mouth is pressed tightly, and the rigid lines of his body speak volumes. The Knight of Virtue is not certain about his decision and the path to take. 

For a moment, he thinks about a sorcerer in Veston - pale as an angel, blue eyes impenetrable as the best armour Tony has ever crafted. A deity whose shape just happened to be human, fragile despite his strength. There is no certainty that Tony will ever see him again.

Everyone is staring at him. Tony only now realizes his hand his pressed against the Arc, blue light coming from the space between his fingers. Slowly, he drops it, the loss of protection making him feel oddly vulnerable. These people will not attack him, and yet Tony is not certain if he will ever feel safe again.

‘’We cannot save everyone,’’ he says, and does not look at Rogers as he says it. ‘’I’ve had to accept that fact. Someone saved my life, so I could get away, and I can’t forget -’’

_He died, so that I could live._

‘’Tony,’’ Rhodey says, but Tony shakes his head, trying not to cry. He has wasted enough water.

‘’My point is,’’ he continues, ‘’is that I have seen enough bloodshed. I have caused enough death and pain, and I’ve endured enough, and I’m sick of it. You say you’ve got a duty to keep me safe? Well, I also have the duty to keep my people safe, and I’ve failed miserably this past year. I’ve only put people in danger by refusing to recognize what was going on. If we can’t help Veston, then we have to try another way. We have to try, Rhodey. Because we can’t save everyone, but I won’t be proud of the man I am if I don’t try to save whoever I can. And I won’t be the kind of man you should have to follow, if I did. You really shouldn’t.’’

‘’You’ve always been the kind of man I could follow,’’ Rhodey says, and the hand on Tony’s shoulder is heavy with loyalty. ‘’Even if you didn’t know it yourself.’’

Tony exhales. His entire body is shaking with anxiety. He will not yet go home - the one journey he has dreamt about ever since he found himself on that cart, wheezing from the pain in his chest. The place he’d wished to be with all the fire in his lungs when he hadn’t had air to breathe.

Four Knights are watching him, and Tony can’t promise them safety. He doesn’t think they want it. 

‘’Then follow me to the Mantri,’’ he says, and in the east, the sun goes down.

~*~

The camps shine like fireflies in the darkness of the night. Stephen pulls his cloak more tightly around his body, trying to supress the shivers. Mordo does not seem as bothered by the night-time’s biting cold, instead staring bitterly at the tents.

‘’I do not understand why we are not attacking,’’ the sorcerer says.

‘’You know why,’’ Wong says curtly before Stephen can start. The gruff Master of Space is just shaking his head at the campment. ‘’Our strength is in opposing them. We do not attack, we wait until they are done. They want a fight and we will not give them one.’’

‘’It’s the only way, Mordo,’’ Stephen adds in a quieter tone, rubbing his arms with his hands. The leather gloves scrape a bit at his skin, but at least he warms up a bit.

‘’They are not leaving soon,’’ Mordo huffs. ‘’They have driven us all out into the Palace. They have taken over the Sanctum! We have already received word from Cortham about their food being stolen. We must act.’’

Stephen would agree, but there’s more at stake here than a few stolen meals. No one has been killed yet - injured, unfortunately, but he is not so disillusioned as to not be relieved by the lack of deaths - and the Menteri are just staking out. He knows very well that the minute that a battle starts, their civilians will die, too.

Everyone in the vicinity had been urged into the safety of Ireningas’ walls. That had meant giving up the Sanctum, at the edge of the capital city. Stephen hadn’t wanted to surrender so easily, but Mordo had been the most vocal of all the Masters. The Ancient One had not budged, however, and now all sorcerers are in the Palace.

Many of the smaller settlements surrounding Ireningas are still in danger, however. The Menteri do not number many, but they are still an armed power that can easily overpower the town-folk. The Menteri are not here to fight, though. They were meant to be let in by Aldrich Killian - and they hadn’t.

Which means they are at a stalemate - both of them. The Menteri need to get into the Palace to do whatever they are meant to do, and lay siege. And Veston cannot attack the Menteri unless they want innocent deaths on their hands. No civilian is in danger now, but there are too many ways that can change.

‘’We cannot act,’’ Stephen says, eyeing the camp fires. ‘’We must wait.’’

‘’For the traitor to give up his secrets.’’

Mordo sounds tired and bitter. Stephen knows that his old friend does not agree, but what can he do? He is in the war council, and he is responsible for making sure that they all survive the coming storm. 

He is not thinking about Tony, who may or may not lie dead in the sand.

‘’He won’t,’’ Wong sighs. ‘’The Menteri will leave, eventually. War will still start, but it can be at our terms.’’

‘’No war is ever at our terms,’’ Stephen says. ‘’I assume that means no word from the King?’’

The King and the Ancient One, so busy dealing with the traitor. A traitor who has been in the works for many years - the one who gave Killian such a nice title and job. A man who was never suspected of anything remiss.

‘’Obadiah Stane still refuses to speak,’’ Wong answers, shrugging. ‘’Nothing about the prince, either.’’

‘’I am going to retire,’’ Mordo says suddenly. ‘’Stephen, will you walk with me?’’

Stephen offers him a single nod, and just makes a face when Wong raises his eyebrows at him. With a final pat on his shoulder, he follows where Mordo is already disappearing. ‘’Good night, Wong.’’

‘’I will see you tomorrow, Strange,’’ Wong calls after him, and Stephen is almost forced to keep up with Mordo.

‘’This is not the right way for things to be,’’ Mordo grumbles, his cloak sweeping behind him. The red flashes in contrast with the grey walls, and Stephen just sighs as he goes down the stairs.

‘’A war is on our hands,’’ Stephen reminds him. ‘’There is no right way.’’

‘’A proper way, at least,’’ Mordo insists as he turns to him. His voice echoes in the hallway - even with the Palace so full, this place is empty. As it is the middle of the night, Stephen hadn’t really expected anything else.

‘’What do you -’’

‘’I have always followed the Ancient One. But to cower away in the face of an enemy - that is not my nature, Stephen. I will not let monsters take over our kingdom. I refuse.’’

‘’They are not monsters, Mordo,’’ Stephen says tiredly, running a hand through his hair. ‘’They can be defeated with the proper planning. Our first priority is the safety of our own people, not the destruction of the Menteri.’’

Mordo does not appear satisfied.

‘’A man who steals away the crown prince without reason? A right hand to the king who betrays a young man as close to him as a son of his own? A diplomat whose only goal is to achieve greatness for himself? What do you call these?’’

‘’Men,’’ Stephen says, trying to stay calm. ‘’You cannot pretend anything else, Mordo. These are men, like you and me. Men, who can be defeated. They are not nightmares, tricking us with shadows in the dark. They are _men_ , with desires and weakness.’’

‘’We are not like them!’’

‘’Why?’’ The question echoes more loudly than Stephen intended it to, and he realizes than that he is shouting. ‘’You think they are darker than you could ever be? You see what they have inflicted on the ones they were close to, and you do not want to compare yourself to that? Well, lo and behold, Mordo! The darkness that man is capable of. Stane, Killian, the Mantri himself - all the same race as you and me. Breathing air and their hearts beating in their chests. And that is why we will defeat them, and why we won’t let them take anything else!’’

Mordo’s eyes are still dark. ‘’You love the prince.’’

This is a court, and Stephen has grown used to lying. ‘’I don’t.’’

‘’Anything else,’’ Mordo says, almost mocking the words. ‘’You meant to say anyone else, did you not? He is dead, Stephen, the cause you fight this war for. I think, perhaps, that my reason for fighting might be dead, too.’’

‘’Just because something is not here right now does not mean it will never be.’’

Mordo shrugs. ‘’Tell yourself what you need to, Strange. You go on and on about the safety of the realm, busying yourself with all the tasks appointed to you, just to ignore the pains of reality.’’

‘’I’m not the one ignoring reality,’’ Stephen says harshly. ‘’You have done nothing but criticize reality. You see a battle where there is none waiting.’’

‘’Perhaps I see more than you do,’’ Mordo bites. ‘’I see now that this was a mistake. You are mistaken if you think the Menteri will pack up and go home. Stane might be detained, and Killian disappeared, but this has gone too far for the Menteri to stop. They will see our blood on the ground before they leave. I wish you luck on the battlefield.’’

‘’You’re just going to leave?’’ 

Stephen finds it hard to imagine Mordo leaving the Masters. Like every other sorcerer, Mordo has worked his whole life towards this - Stephen remembers him bowing eagerly over his books and practicing his spells. Then again, maybe this Mordo isn’t the same man.

‘’Wong said the Menteri were here for war,’’ Mordo says. ‘’That is the one thing he is right about. They will not simply leave, Stephen. You best prepare for that, because this is a battle I refuse to be part of. Too many sorcerers have abandoned their morals and beliefs for the Ancient One’s plans. She sits here, and she knows as well as me that a war will come. What is she waiting for? Her plans are private, and I will no longer be a pawn in her game.’’

‘’You can’t leave.’’ Stephen just watches as Mordo shrugs, rising his eyes to the ceiling as if Wong is coming down towards them. They are by themselves, here, and it is nothing like it used to be.

‘’I can and I am,’’ Mordo answers, and the regret thrums in the air. ‘’I believed in the Ancient One, once, but I find that I can’t do that anymore. Good luck, Stephen. And make her tell you about Kaecilius before you do anything too rashly.’’

Mordo is already walking away. Stephen can’t just let him go - this cannot be how things go. Once upon a time, Mordo taught him how to concentrate his spells and focus on his breathing. Once upon a time, Stephen had believed that they would take the Sanctum by surprise, the two of them as the greatest sorcerers alive.

Here they are - a sorcerer whose colours turn out to be only ephemeral, and the sorcerer who refuses to let them be. One of them is walking away, and the other set in place.

~*~

The first smoke in the distance is more of a relief than Tony can put into words. Walking into the deserts for days, even with Knights that keep you hydrated and as healthy as can be expected, is no easy feat. Rogers carried the shield for him, but the Arc is Tony’s burden and only his. His chest still thrums in pain with every step, though he’d kept that from Rhodey.

Anyway, finding the settlement had been an easy affair in the end. Walk into one direction long enough, and everything will pass. Tony breathes in, staring at the homes. He doesn’t even care that he is still in Menteri, at this point - this is civilization. That is more than he’s had in months.

‘’That’s not normal smoke,’’ Barton says eventually, peering in the distance. ‘’It’s far thicker. I think something’s on fire there.’’

‘’Our troops?’’ Tony asks. He’s not _happy_ , necessarily, by a village on fire - but if it’s them that’s doing this, that’ll mean there’s a way to get home. And he would certainly like to stop the Mantri, but - _home_.

‘’Doubtful,’’ Romanoff mutters. ‘’Clint, can you see anything else?’’

‘’We need to investigate,’’ Rhodey says firmly. ‘’Rogers, Romanoff, go see what’s going on there. Make sure you’re not seen.’’

Rogers nods, and then glances at the shield he’s been carrying for Tony. While vibranium is lighter than most metals, it’s not exactly inconspicuous. 

‘’Keep that,’’ Tony tells him, finding that he doesn’t really care about the clandestine nature of the Knight’s mission. Not more than about the safety of his Knights, at least. ‘’You might need it.’’

Whatever look Rhodey and Rogers share - Tony doesn’t care. Instead, he just sags down and buries his fingers in the sand. The sand feels different, so close to a way out of the desert. It’s softer and lighter, and it’s almost as if he could forget his long walk out of the cave.

‘’I’ll keep an eye on them from far away,’’ Barton says, a frown on his face as he sees the other Knights disappearing. ‘’Call if you need me.’’

Rhodey is more careful to sit down, glancing at every direction before he focuses on Tony. The prince ignores his friend for a while, instead choosing to look towards the dark smoke lingering over the town. It’s almost like a beckoning sign, except Tony needs this moment to sit and regain his breath.

‘’Tony.’’

When he looks up towards the eyes of his friend, the dark irises a sharp contrast to the soft colours of their environment, Tony has to stop himself from sighing. He has known Rhodey for long enough to know what is coming. After all, this is the first moment they’ve spent with only the two of them ever since Tony was found.

He opens his tunics a little, the silver of the vibranium glittering in the sunlight. ‘’This is my Arc,’’ he explains wearily. ‘’I made it in the cave. The magic was supplied by a fellow captive who didn’t make it out. It keeps me alive, Rhodey, because I was stabbed in the heart when I was taken. Without Yinsen, I would’ve been dead. And without me, he would still be alive.’’

Rhodey doesn’t stop staring. ‘’How did you escape? Why did they keep you alive in the first place? Tony, I just - we were afraid. We thought you were dead.’’

‘’They wanted me to make weapons,’’ Tony says. ‘’They had a lot of them already.’’

‘’How?’’

That is one thing that he has been thinking about a lot. Tony doesn’t make weapons for a living - he has made many, over the years, but none have ever been available for buying. That means they were stolen out of the castle by someone with the power to do that. And while there is more than one person who could have done that, there is only one who has shown any interest in his weapons for years - who has taken his weapons to be sold. Tony had never asked any questions, because why would Obadiah do anything bad?

Tony doesn’t want to think about it. 

‘’A traitor,’’ he says, drawing a figure in the sand. ‘’I will deal with him when we return to the Palace. Just - tell me. What’s been going on in Veston since I’ve been gone?’’

‘’War with Menteri, didn’t you hear?’’ Rhodey says, but the smile on his face is empty. ‘’I’m worried for you, Tony. You need time to heal. When we get back, and this war is done, I will personally make sure that you can go on a holiday. A real and a long one, this time, not merely a trip to the Sanctum.’’

‘’I liked the Sanctum,’’ Tony murmurs.

‘’Your newfound interest in the sorcerers hasn’t gone unnoticed, Tony. It’s the court, after all. When you get back, you can’t go running back the Sanctum.’’

‘’I was just saying,’’ he says. ‘’Rhodey, I’m fine. I don’t have an interest in the sorcerers, and I’m not -’’

‘’Stephen blames himself,’’ Rhodey interjects, and Tony presses his hand to the Arc at hearing the sorcerer’s name. ‘’The day you were taken - he fought to come along with the rescue party. The Sorcerer Supreme refused to let him come, and instead, he’s on the war council now. I doubt he’s happy there, but that man is just as stubborn as you are.’’

‘’I know,’’ he says. ‘’Can you just - is he okay? Is he safe?’’

‘’The sorcerers will be called upon to fight when Menteri attacks, Tony,’’ Rhodey says quietly. ‘’I’m not sure if he’s safe. And I don’t know if he’s okay. I’m not sure how to ask this, but for how long - since when do you care so much about Strange?’’

_Since when do you dream about me, Tony? Since when do you care if I stay?_

Tony almost laughs. Here they are, in the middle of the desert, miles away from home. They are in a country with which they are at war, while most of his people think him dead, and the nearest village is on fire. He has heart problems and a thousand injuries after months of captivity, and there is no way to get back to Veston.

And here they are, Rhodey asking him about his love life. So Tony doesn’t laugh, even if he wants to. Instead, he just shakes his head at his friend.

‘’I don’t know, Rhodey. I really don’t know.’’

‘’Well then,’’ Rhodey says, and rises with a bit of difficulty as his hands sag away in the sand. ‘’If you ever figure it out, be sure to let me know so I can threaten him properly. Let’s first ask Romanoff and Rogers what the hell they are thinking, right?’’

Tony turns in the sand. Three familiar figures are slowly nearing, but there’s two others following them as well. He scrambles up, helped by Rhodey. His heart beats loudly in his chest as the four figures become clearer.

They are two men - the first even broader than Rogers, with a wide smile and disarrayed blond hair. The second is almost his contrast, pale, lanky and unimpressed on the overall.

‘’Some unexpected finds,’’ Romanoff says as she returns, smirking at the both of them while Barton just keeps snickering.

‘’Who are you?’’ Tony demands, and looks over to Rogers. He is still holding the shield, and only offers a shrug.

‘’My name is Thor, and this is my brother Loki,’’ the broad man introduces himself. His voice is just as booming as Tony expected it to be, though he still winces a bit at the sheer volume. ‘’We are of Asgard.’’

‘’Not just of Asgard, if I’m correct,’’ Tony says, and he examines the brothers more thoroughly. He hasn’t ever been in Asgard, personally - it’s a kingdom that values its privacy and it doesn’t deal much with anyone else. Everything that Tony knows is because of books and the few diplomats that taught him when he was younger.

‘’The princes of Asgard,’’ Rhodey finishes for him, seemingly just as surprised.

‘’Not on princely business, we assure you,’’ Loki adds, glaring at his brother. ‘’Thor is here on noble business, while I, myself, might be said to be in the brother-sitting business. And you are prince Anthony of Veston, if I’m not incorrect.’’

‘’We didn’t tell him,’’ Rogers says when Rhodey glares at him.

Loki shrugs. ‘’Simply putting one and one together, Knight Rogers.’’

‘’Well, math isn’t your weakness, in that case,’’ Tony says, and turns to the older brother. ‘’We honestly hadn’t expected any royals in this area. What’s this noble business of yours?’’

‘’Neither had we,’’ prince Thor says, sounding rather vigorous. ‘’We are aware of your war with Menteri, but the Mantri has been annoying our lands, too. Not enough to draw out any battle, but enough to bother my people. When word came to Asgard that you had been taken, we wanted to take preventive measures. My brother and I have been trying to find the Mantri.’’

‘’Only it turns out there’s no Mantri in Menteri, currently,’’ Rogers cuts in. ‘’Vanished from the world. Word is that the Mantri isn’t the Mantri, but it’s all vague and unconfirmed. In any case, there’s no one here.’’

Tony stares at the group for a moment. ‘’But if there’s no Mantri,’’ he says, ‘’there’s no way to convince him to stop the war. We won’t be able to stop war. We won’t be able to go back to Ireningas.’’

‘’We will find a way,’’ Rhodey says. ‘’Even if we have to walk all the way around the armies, we can return.’’

‘’Or find a way to sneak past them,’’ Romanoff says, a thoughtful note in her voice. 

‘’Perhaps we can be of assistance.’’ Thor eyes him strangely. ‘’You want to return home, do you not? It’s a noble thing of you, wanting to end this war before it starts. I have found that death is too easily dealt around, sometimes, without good reason.’’

‘’Thank you, prince Thor, but there’s not much we can do,’’ Tony says, trying not to sound too bitter. ‘’It’ll take more time than we have before we reach Ireningas. It might be far too late to save my people.’’

‘’Oh, stop being so melancholic,’’ Loki snaps. ‘’I’m a sorcerer, and yes, I can create _portals_ , as your Sanctum calls them. Let us stay in Veston and we will help.’’

‘’Why?’’ Romanoff asks, the humour slipping off her face. ‘’Why would you help us?’’

‘’Just think of it as one prince helping another,’’ Loki says, his look just as dark as hers. While the younger prince might not be as buff as Thor, he certainly seems no less threatening. Tony just eyes the both of them, even as Thor lays a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

‘’If we are to help each other, we should be honest,’’ Thor nods. ‘’Menteri has some allies, we suspect, that are more ambitious than many we have ever seen. My father - well, you know Asgard’s state of affairs. We remain on our own, strong as we are. I did not agree with his policy and Loki came with me. There is more than Asgard in this world, prince Anthony, and I believe Menteri means to destroy most of it. I will not allow for that to happen, so I will help you fight your battle, so it will not become the battle of us all.’’

‘’We will bring you home, and we need not return to Asgard,’’ Loki adds.

‘’We’re supposed to believe the guys who set this town on fire?’’ Clint says flatly.

Thor shrugs. ‘’No one is left in this town. The fire was simply to keep warm as the night approaches. Loki is an excellent sorcerer, but subtlety is not a trait of his.’’

Loki scoffs, folding his arms. ‘’I chose for it not to be.’’

Tony can feel Rhodey’s gaze on his, but there is no choice, is there? Thor and Loki are after the same thing he is - the end of this war. And if Loki can create portals, it is their only option. What are their chances of finding another friendly - or semi-friendly, at least - Master who can and is willing to bring them to Ireningas?

‘’Veston will grant you asylum as long as you need it,’’ he says, a note of finality in his voice. ‘’You have my word. Bring us to Ireningas, and we will assure it.’’

‘’I cannot bring you into the city,’’ Loki warns, ‘’but we can come close enough. Your Sorcerer Supreme has a powerful spell that prevents any sorcerers that do not hail from your Sanctum from coming in. We have to be very careful.’’

‘’Can we go now?’’ Rogers asks, rubbing his hands. Days in the desert may be too hot to think, but the cold of night is just as bad. That fire might not have been a terrible idea.

‘’We risk running into a battle,’’ Rhodey murmurs. ‘’We’ll go just before dawn, so we still have the cover of dark. Now, let’s quit standing around in the sand and get to that fire. We need sleep before we go home.’’

Tony isn’t one to waste the opportunity to get warm - he jumps at the chance, eagerly following Thor. He can hear his Knights talking behind him, but he is too tired and exhilarated at the same time to care much.

The town is abandoned, as Thor had said - the quiet is almost disheartening. The sand stone makes for thick walls with small windows, and Tony peeks inside. People used to live here, and it seems a pretty recent thing, too. There are intricately-made carpets on the floor and dozens of candles sitting around the tables. Not a single one is lit.

He walks after the rest of the group, and tries not to think of the Palace being this abandoned. The kitchen without the sounds of the banging of pots and pans against each other; the courtyard without the murmured conversations and attentive guards to keep an eye on everyone enjoying their day out. The throne room, with the window of stained glass casting its light on the floor for no one to see and an empty seat, with no one to lead the country; there not being a country to be led.

It will not come to that, he decides, shivering as he comes closer to the fire. He can feel the coldness of the evening leaving his body, even as Rhodey calls him over to the rest of the group. He can see the princes eyeing him curiously, and wonders at the fate of Veston.

Tomorrow, he will fight back.


	13. Red / IV

Stephen does not sleep the rest of the night. He sits on his bed, still fully made, just breathing in and out. His perception of Mind is heightened enough by the restless meditation that he already knows what is going on before the guards can even find his door.

He opens the door right in the face of one of the men, whose perplexed stare does little to gratify Stephen.

‘’Where am I needed?’’ he asks the guard, who he vaguely recognizes as Everett Ross. A capable guard, to be sure, certainly on the shortlist to become a Knight of Virtue. 

Ross does not linger on his surprise for too long. ‘’The King and the Sorcerer Supreme are waiting in the throne room, Master Strange,’’ he says. ‘’The war council is gathering there. The Menteri have mounted an attack.’’

Stephen would have cared about being rude, had time not been of the essence. He darts past Ross, his feet barely touching the ground as he turns around the corner and runs. He almost bumps into several other guards and Knights, but they all step aside. His face is well-known by now - his status in the King’s war council established. 

It takes only mere moments before he reaches the throne room. No one but the Ancient One and Howard Stark are there yet, and Stephen does not care about formal greetings.

‘’Has anyone been injured yet?’’ he asks sharply.

‘’You are asking the wrong question,’’ the Ancient One fires back, and her pale face is focused on the King’s. Howard Stark, however, just stares aimlessly towards the end of the hall, far above where Stephen stands.

The stained glass falls on top of his throne, bathing the King in an ethereal light of which the colours are dimmed in the moonlight. Dawn has not yet come, though it will soon. 

‘’If you were to tell me of the situation, I would not need to ask,’’ Stephen snaps. ‘’You said they would not attack.’’

She just shakes her head. Perhaps Stephen is asking the wrong questions because she does not have the answers, this time. He wants to feel vindicated, but only the mixed feelings of guilt and fear rise in his throat. He has never seen her so shaken before.

‘’It is a small host,’’ she says eventually. ‘’They cannot do much damage. I’m not sure why they attacked, and why now, but we must stop them with minimal casualties. I will lead the sorcerers. Howard, you must lead your men.’’

‘’What’s the point?’’ the King says bitterly, and for the first time since Stephen entered the throne room, his dark eyes move towards the Ancient One’s face to meet her gaze. ‘’My son is dead.’’

‘’He is not.’’

‘’So you’ve said,’’ Howard drawls. ‘’And yet, everyone tells me otherwise. You tell me that Obadiah is a traitor and I lock him up; I have yet to see conclusive proof. You tell me that the Menteri will not attack yet, and they have. Why should I believe that Anthony lives? Your ramblings are unfounded, woman. The only thing I believe is that your presence is growing less and less useful by the day. I lost my wife and my son - you made me do things without reason that I never would have otherwise. Do you side with the Mantri? Is this all a plot against me?’’

‘’Howard -’’

The Ancient One’s brow is furrowed, her hands buried in the sleeves of her cloak. For her and the King to be this defeated - the situation must be more dire than Stephen believed.

‘’Does this matter now?’’ he says, edging closer towards the throne. ‘’My King, your people need you. Whether your son lives or not - there’s a thousand more sons in this capital alone that might die, if we don’t act now.’’

The King stares at him. The gaze is both familiar and so different, and Stephen can’t think about Tony at this moment, or he’ll break. 

‘’I will not listen to any further ramblings of hers,’’ he says, ‘’but I will fight, today. We will muster the Knights and guards. The sorcerers’ first priority is to keep the Menteri away from the gate and drive them away from Ireningas. Give our soldiers the upper hand. Leave, both of you.’’

Stephen inclines his head and turns, falling into stride next to the Ancient One.

‘’Things are moving faster than they were supposed to,’’ she mutters, and grasps his arm as soon as the doors fall shut behind them. ‘’Stephen, time is growing scarce. The prince will be in danger - look for him near the eastern gate. If you’re too late, we truly might have no heir left for the throne.’’

‘’I don’t understand,’’ he says, but she just lets go of him with a mournful smile.

‘’I will tell you everything after this fight,’’ she murmurs. ‘’I should have done so a long time ago, perhaps. For now, we strive to survive the first attack.’’

She walks away before he can answer. And there are a thousand things he must do, but a single phrase remains buried in his mind even as he returns to his room: _first attack_. Does that mean there will be more than one? There must be an explanation for it all, but it will have to wait until after the battle. He can hear the Menteri from the outside, and he takes the sword that Tony has gifted him. The blade is just as sharp as before, and he runs his finger over the decorated hilt.

Green, it’s supposed to be. In the dark of night, he can pretend it’s only the lack of light that hides the colour from him.

Without a second glance, he moves.

~*~

From the very start, it’s an experience that blurs together. Stephen only remembers the men and women in armour rushing past him as he stands on the walls of Ireningas with other sorcerers. Some he knows, some he doesn’t; all of them wear the same grim look on their faces, lips pressed together. Wong just stares ahead, as stoic as always, as everyone else remains quiet in the shared solitude.

Underneath them, two armies are waiting. The dawn glows a pinkish orange, and Stephen appreciates the sight more than he can say. The rest of the country is streaked with grey, mostly, and the colours of the sunrise are too bewitching for him to not regret the loss of green, blue, and yellow.

‘’Do not wait until the battle starts,’’ Wong says, his voice louder so as to reach to the entire group of sorcerers that is waiting. ‘’Confuse the enemy with all you have. Their numbers are small but they are here for war - they have come prepared, and we are not. Numbers do not make all the difference, but we can. Keep you and your comrades safe, and lure the Menteri into a trap they dare not have seen coming. Are you all ready?’’

It isn’t a speech. Or if it was meant to be, it’s not a good one. Still, the answering ‘’yes’’ carries through the air. It’s not yelled or roared - it’s said with the precision that is taught to all sorcerers from a young age on, and Stephen hates the calmness with which they all stand now. They are at war, and this facade will never drop.

And so the fight begins. The sorcerers’ hands start moving, and Stephen just focuses on his own gloved fingers. He can only see the light twirling around his digits as he moves them, as he speeds up their own soldiers a bit and slows the enemy down. It’ll be enough to make a difference, he tells himself. Time is precious, and even more so in these situations.

The roaring from below reaches up to the walls, and Stephen tries to focus on the individuals that are fighting. The sword still rests on his back, hidden by the cloak, but his fingers are itching for more, now. He is here for more than diversion - he wants to do more. He can do more.

_The prince will be in danger - look for him near the eastern gate._

The words ring in his head even now, as he focuses on other things. He is on the southern gate, where the Menteri are trying to enter the capital city and the Veston soldiers are stopping them. He can see a few Knights of Virtue, noticeable from the differences in their armour and weaponry, fighting the Menteri. One is struck down, and with Mind, Stephen can feel the pain projected onto himself.

Quickly, he disbands the unintended connection and leans against the wall, catching his breath. The Menteri may be outnumbered, but their ways of fighting are unfamiliar for the fights. They are lighter and quicker than their Knights and guards, and they’ve been preparing. These are not acceptable losses, and Stephen makes up his mind.

If the Ancient One is right, he refuses to let this happen to Tony. He has no idea what she has been doing, these many months - but he is not Mordo. He does not lose faith, and he will be damned before he allows even the slightest chance of injuring Tony. If the prince really has found his way back - and his heart bounces loudly in his chest when he even considers the thought - then Stephen will be here to protect him.

Wong glances knowingly at him when Stephen sprints past him without explanation. Stephen doesn’t stop - he creates a portal for himself, ending up right in front of the eastern gate immediately. The top of the wall is less manned, from what he can see from the yard, but the outer parts of the fight are going on behind this wall. It isn’t the main gate, but it’s just as well protected from the Menteri. 

‘’Master Strange?’’ It’s the most loyal of the Knights of Virtue that addresses him. A group of guards are waiting behind him, swords on the ready. Even from a distance, Stephen can see the fear that grips many of them. These soldiers have been trained for battle, but none of them have ever seen it in reality.

‘’Knight Hogan,’’ Stephen acknowledges. ‘’How is the battle over here?’’

Hogan’s perplexed expression doesn’t leave, but at least the man answers. ‘’We’re winning, so far, but more Menteri keep coming. That is why we are going in now. Maybe there’s some back-up that has arrived for the Menteri already, because I don’t remember their force being this big. The King thought that I was being too suspicious.’’

‘’It would explain why they’re attacking only now,’’ Stephen mutters. He would not put it past the Menteri to go for an actual attack wave after finding out that infiltrating wasn’t going to work anymore. If Killian was anything to go by, this plan had been in the making for a long time. The Menteri’s patience must be all gone by now.

‘’I have to go to the battlefield,’’ Hogan says, almost apologetic. ‘’The other sorcerers are -’’

‘’No,’’ Stephen says, and for the first time, he unsheathes his sword from the scabbard on his back. The blade reflects the first rays of the sun on this new day, and Stephen exhales. ‘’I am coming with you.’’

Hogan merely nods, a solemn acceptance on his face. With a single movement of his hand, the first few rows of the guards steps forward. The other half stays back - here to defend the city, in case any enemy should breach, Stephen suspects.

Wordlessly, Stephen falls in stride with the other fighters. He must stand out in his red cloak and his taller sword, but he feels like one of the soldiers. He clenches his sword, his hands sweaty within his gloves, and then the gate opens and they run. The woman next to him lets out a cry of determination as she attacks, stabbing the first Menteri she encounters in the gut. 

The gate closes behind them, creaking in protest, and Stephen stays back with the others to ensure no Menteri go through it. He loses sight of Hogan soon - while the Knights of Virtue were recognizable from the wall, it’s very different in the crowd. Stephen relies on instinct and a dash of Mind to know when to duck and run. He can’t even think about the first time he has to stab a Menteri.

He hates killing. He never wants to do it again, but he can hardly let his own skull be crushed. Still, there is no time to think about the overwhelming sense of wrongness as the lifeless body drops to the ground, all because of his sword. 

This is what he needs to do to protect his country and possibly his prince, but by all gods - Stephen hates himself. And yet, to linger on this now would mean his own death. So he continues running. Hogan was right - there are far more Menteri soldiers here now than he thought there would be. Perhaps the fight is shifting, or there’s more back-up. There is no time to think about it.

Stephen lifts his left hand, the one that isn’t holding the sword, and Time slows for a few moments. With another pulse of light, he uses Space to imbalance the Menteri. His head aches a bit from the use of three Aspects in a row, but he keeps up Mind and Time at the same time to gain an edge.

It’s a good thing that he does, too. A sharp and familiar edge protrudes on his consciousness, only a little further away from him. Stephen moves a bit too fast, and almost misses the sword coming at his abdomen. Only his use of Time makes him fast enough to get out of the way of a deadly blow, and he hisses in pain as the sword still draws blood.

He elbows his assailant, and the adrenaline causes Stephen to misjudge the strength in his blow. The Menteri falls down with a bleeding nose, fully knocked out. There is no time to make any further conclusions - Stephen still senses the distress with Mind, and it feels like a mind he has been encountered more often. Without any more reflection, he dashes forward, using Space to move everyone out of his way, ally or enemy.

And then - he stops. In the middle of Menteri soldiers is an unlikely group, undressed and unprepared for combat but holding their own nonetheless. Romanoff is back-to-back with Barton, both of them fine-tuned to each other’s styles, picking apart enemies in a record time. Rogers is fighting more with a silver shield than with an actual weapon. Two unfamiliar men are on their other side, the raven-haired one apparently a sorcerer. His spells are unfamiliar and odd, but he does an admirable job of keeping the enemies away. The broader man seems to be full of mirth, swinging his hammer at anyone who dares come near him. Knight Rhodes is strong and agile, having picked up a Menteri sword and handling it as if he was born with it.

Most of Stephen’s shock comes from seeing the man that is behind Rhodes, his expression determined despite the unhealthy leanness of his body and the rags that were clothes, once. His hair is dark and curly, longer than it used to be, but there is no mistaking the stubborn tilt of his head or the sharp calculation in his eyes.

Tony. A bit worse off for the wear, but alive.

Stephen has to step away in order to avoid being hit again, and the pain in his abdomen is a stinging reminder that he is, in fact, on a battlefield. Tony’s group is near him, but there are a dozen Menteri between him and them that threaten to overrun the assembled fighters. And while Stephen is more than capable of slowing or stopping Time, it’ll take too much energy for him to be of use for anything else after that. And just Time won’t solve anything.

Neither will Mind. He can’t crawl into everyone’s Mind and command them to stop - if he could, it would’ve been the first thing he did. Space is no use, either - he can get himself into the circle Tony and the others are protecting, but it won’t save them.

He’s Mastered three Aspects, and yet there is little he can do but watch Tony’s face disappear behind the lines of Menteri fighters. Stephen exhales loudly, feeling the perspiration drop down from his face onto the ground, and raises both hands. There are two Aspects that might actually make a difference here. Power could produce a blast to move away all the opponents without a second’s thought, but Stephen doesn’t know Power, and Mordo isn’t here to help him.

Reality, however. He knows the basics of Reality, and he knows how to confuse an army full of people. In theory, at least, but he’ll soon find out if it works the same way in the real world.

Summoning a wave of redness, he swirls the conjuration around the group of warriors and himself. Closing his eyes in order to concentrate, he imagines a large army. With everything he witnessed today, it doesn’t take much. The phantom soldiers, glittering armour and sharp swords, roar out a battle cry that only those under his spell can hear.

With a hint of Mind, the only thing he can spare his energy for, he makes the soldiers a bit more malleable. A bit of fear, and Reality will send them running. Straining himself, he adds a touch of Time to make the situation more dire for the Menteri.

The combination does wonders. Seeing an army coming at them, albeit not a real one, that is four times their own size sends them running. Even with his eyes closed, Stephen can hear the real cries of surrender and the wind as the Menteri run past him.

He holds it until the final Menteri is gone, an unfamiliar horn blowing their defeat. Coming here must have drained their forces for the main attack, he thinks hazily as he opens his eyes. They were outnumbered - just overly confident and impatient, and it has cost them their victory.

He drops the spell. The army forged of Reality cracks like a broken mirror, falling into pieces until it’s little more than dust. Only Hogan’s soldiers stand a few feet away - and before Stephen, Tony’s group that is looking around in puzzlement.

Except Tony, that is. Stephen locks eyes with him, and he wishes he could move. Instead, he falls to his knees in exhaustion, his gloved hands digging at the dirt. His sword is already lying down there - he doesn’t remember dropping it, but he must have. The spells have taken most out of him, and with the disappearance of adrenaline, Stephen feels dizzy.

A gentle hand lifts up his face, and Stephen looks right into Tony’s eyes. 

‘’You’re alive,’’ he murmurs, and maybe this is another illusion. He doesn’t dare to hope that this is really Tony, because he’s been gone for months now, and it’s all Stephen’s fault. He does not deserve to be redeemed - except that Tony _does_ deserve to live, and that’s more important than Stephen’s guilt.

‘’You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’’ Tony says, and the warm exasperation of his voice is enough to convince Stephen that this is no trick of Reality. He hadn’t forgotten what Tony looked like - but he’d forgotten the sound of his voice. How could he have forgotten?

‘’I’m not the one that left for Menteri without warning,’’ Stephen answers, and he lets out a sigh. ‘’I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tony, about everything. This is all my fault.’’

Tony frowns, but he’s not looking at Stephen anymore. Or well, he’s looking at Stephen, but not towards his face. ‘’You’re bleeding,’’ he says, and comes away with a hand of smudged grey after pressing it on his stomach.

‘’That’s not blood,’’ Stephen says, and his tongue is becoming harder to control. ‘’Blood is red. I don’t know what that is.’’

‘’Stephen, this _is_ red,’’ Tony says, almost as if he’s talking to a child. ‘’God, you’re way out of it. Rhodey, help him up. Thor, can you take his other side? Barton, Romanoff, find my father and a healer. Preferably the other way around, actually.’’

Stephen lets himself be helped up by the two men, his weight suddenly far too much for him to bear. The pain in his abdomen isn’t enough for him to pass out, but with the nausea and dizziness combined, he wishes he did. 

Instead, he just listens to Tony talk and closes his eyes, trusting the prince not to lead him astray as he tries his hardest to stay on his feet. And yet, despite the discomfort of his situation, he feels calmer than he has in a long time.

Tony is home.

~*~

His father sits on the throne as if nothing has happened. Tony just kneels in front of him, the throne room empty but for the two of them. His legs are tired from the walking he’s done in the recent past, and the position isn’t comfortable. 

‘’Rise,’’ Howard says eventually, and Tony obeys with some difficulty. ‘’So. You’re home.’’

‘’I had help,’’ Tony says evenly. ‘’Rhodey found me in the desert.’’

‘’After you escaped your captors.’’ The King nods to himself. 

Tony exhales. Somehow, he doesn’t know why he is disappointed by his father’s response to his somewhat-safe return. Howard has never been one for expressing any sort of parental love or approval, after all. That had only become worse after his mother had died. 

‘’I have an idea about who might have been behind this situation,’’ he says, though the words struggle to get out. ‘’You might not believe me, but you have to listen to me. It’s Obadiah, father. The Ten Rings, they had weapons that I’ve made. Only Obi has ever taken my weapons on a regular basis. I’ve never questioned him, and I should have. He is -’’

‘’A traitor, yes,’’ Howard sighs. Tony stops in his tracks.

‘’What?’’

‘’There is much you need to be told,’’ his father says. ‘’A lot that has happened. Obadiah is in a cell, currently, until we know what to do with him. Aldrich Killian, one of our diplomats, was in on the whole thing. He has escaped a trap we laid out for him. Master Strange figured that one out. Our Sorcerer Supreme was the first to accuse Obadiah.’’

‘’So what is their plan?’’ Tony asks, frowning. ‘’Why is Menteri doing any of this? Where is the Mantri - the one we knew?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ Howard says in frustration, and rises from the throne. ‘’The Ancient One has answers, I suppose, because she keeps going on about having seen the consequences of losing, and the importance of winning. War is on our doorstep, boy, and we need to win before we can answer. That is the most important thing.’’

‘’I’ll talk to her,’’ Tony says.

Howard huffs. ‘’It’s of little use. That woman speaks in riddles and doesn’t tell anyone what they mean. She strings along her Sanctum and the court in her plans, but I am done with sorcerers. It is up to us to keep the kingdom alive, Anthony. This was only the first wave, and the second will be on our terms. I have been in contact with Skida. King Nicholas will assist us in our endeavours to wipe Menteri off the maps.’’

Tony thinks about the sorcerer lying on the white bed in the medical wing. He thinks about the bodies on the ground, when the forces of Menteri retreated. His fingers rest on his Arc before he has noticed moving them.

‘’There’s something more going on here,’’ he says. ‘’You know that, father. This is deeper than we know, now. We need to know what the Ancient One knows.’’

‘’Obadiah killed your mother, boy,’’ Howard says. ‘’Menteri is involved. There is nothing more I need to know. Go, now.’’

Tony can’t. He stands still, his breathing paused. Obadiah - behind his mother’s death? But that was years ago, and Obadiah had been the one to soothe his crying. Obadiah had been the one to calm Tony after his nightmares.

The deception runs deeper than he could have ever imagined. Tony exhales and turns on his heels. He’ll deal with Obadiah in due time, but for now -

For now, there is a dusty room with his mother’s old piano, and it will be the perfect place to let tears fall.


	14. Purple / I

‘’I should have expected something like this,’’ Christine sighs, even as she redresses Stephen’s injury. It’s an angry line across his abdomen, the rest of his body mottled grey and purple. Well, he expects the grey to be either green or blue, but he’s not going to ask Christine what colour his bruises are. It’s nothing more than a morbid curiosity.

Then the white bandages cover it, and Stephen looks at his friend again.

‘’To be fair, it’s the second time I have been injured while Mastering an Aspect,’’ he says evenly, trying not to focus on either the pain or his exhaustion. It’s not a huge injury, all things considered, but along with him using four Aspects at once, it had taken more out of him than he could have bore.

‘’I’m not even sure what to think of everything you’ve told me,’’ Christine continues, tugging at the bandages a little too tightly. Stephen blanches. ‘’I don’t even know if I should believe it, except that it’s you. Four Aspects, Stephen? Have you gone insane?’’

‘’Apparently,’’ he mutters, running his fingers over the injury hidden behind the bandages while Christine steps away to appreciate her handiwork.

‘’You could’ve told me all of this when you came to Kamar-Taj, you know,’’ she says, concern creasing her brow as she sits on the chair. They are not in the healing wing, but in Stephen’s personal chambers - he doesn’t know who had made that happen, but he’s endlessly glad. Maybe there simply hadn’t been any room for him.

‘’There wasn’t any time,’’ he says, standing up and trying to walk around. The movement tugs at his middle a bit, but it could be worse. All in all, he should be fine again in a couple of days. The main issue had been the fact he’d strained himself to the extreme while Mastering Reality.

It still feels a bit unreal. His blood had been a dark grey, and he’d barely recognized the sticky substance. And even his cloak, in the corner, is grey to him now. Absentmindedly, he wonders why they have red cloaks to begin with. It feels somewhat unfair to the Masters of Reality.

‘’There was plenty of time,’’ Christine says, shaking her head at him. ‘’Stephen, I’m still your friend, even if _this_ is your world now.’’

The door creaks open behind her, but she hasn’t heard it. Stephen frowns as a long-missed figure appears behind it, awkwardly lingering in the doorway. ‘’Christine -’’ he starts, but she doesn’t hear him.

‘’I only came because I knew they needed healers, but to find you here, and injured - are you out of your mind, going into the battlefield like that? Even if you’re trying to somehow Master the Aspect of Soul itself, this isn’t the way to do it, Stephen! No one knows four Aspects, not even the Sorcerer Supreme herself, and I don’t want you to get yourself killed like this, in some - egomaniacal attempt to prove you’re more! Is that what this is?’’

‘’Am I interrupting something?’’ Tony asks, wincing at Christine’s words. She whips around like a child caught stealing candy, her cheeks going red.

‘’Prince Anthony,’’ she whispers, gripping the desk as if it’ll stabilize her. ‘’I didn’t know -’’

‘’I should’ve knocked,’’ Tony says, taking a step back. ‘’I’ll just -’’

‘’No,’’ Stephen blurts out, suddenly very aware he’s only wearing pants and a bandage around his middle as Tony stares at him.

‘’I’ll go,’’ Christine says instead, her eyes flitting between the two men. Stephen stays silent as she rises, taking her equipment in a hurry. ‘’I was done, anyway, and there’s some other people who need more bandages. Take the potion with every meal, Stephen, it’ll speed up your healing.’’

‘’I know,’’ he says. ‘’And Christine? I promise I’m not doing this out of some sense of self-conceit.’’

She nods, and with one last look, she disappears while Tony steps inside. The door falls shut behind her, and only the sound of the rain splattering against Stephen’s window is there for a few seconds.

‘’Are you alright?’’ Tony asks, eyeing his bandages. ‘’It’s - I was concerned, you see. You didn’t look so good on the battlefield. I haven’t thanked you for saving me yet, so I was just - I came to thank you. And to see how you were doing.’’

The prince doesn’t know any better how to do this. Stephen isn’t sure whether to be relieved by that, or if it would have been easier if one of them knew what to say.

‘’It’s not serious,’’ he offers. ‘’It wasn’t the injury that brought me down, my prince.’’

‘’Mastering an Aspect,’’ Tony says knowingly. ‘’Reality. That’s why you didn’t recognize your own blood. It’s, well - you haven’t been idle, I see. The war council, Mastering another Aspect. Though your friend - she said four. Did you -’’

‘’Mind,’’ Stephen says before the prince can ask his question. ‘’When - the night you disappeared.’’

‘’Right,’’ Tony says awkwardly. 

The seconds tick by, and Stephen can see that Tony has more to say. So does he, really, but what do you say to a man dearer than anyone else? The man who has been gone who knows where for three months, and whose disappearance Stephen was to blame for? Only one thing, perhaps.

‘’I’m sorry. There have been a million times I wished I could have taken back my words, but that’s not how life works. I wish I could have turned back Time and kept you safe, somehow, but that is not how the Mystic Arts work, either. I came here for one reason only, and I failed. If you - if you want me to leave, I understand completely. The Sanctum is empty, with the war going on, but I can -’’

‘’That’s not what I want,’’ Tony interrupts, and there’s a frown on his face. His hand rests on his chest, and it’s a tick he never had before. Stephen can’t help but watch him as the prince continues talking. ‘’I - don’t you remember? I want you to stay.’’

‘’You were taken by the Menteri,’’ Stephen says forcefully.

‘’So blame the Menteri for that!’’ Tony returns vehemently, and takes a step forward. ‘’I know what happened to me, Stephen, but you can’t leave now. You became a Master of Time, months ago, and you promised to protect Veston. It’s the same thing that I promised, once upon a time.’’

‘’Don’t tell me what I promised,’’ Stephen says, and Tony is suddenly so near, and at least he can still see the brown in his eyes - at least he can still see the depth in his gaze, and he doesn’t want to go. ‘’Tell me what you _want_ of me.’’

Tony kisses him. Stephen immediately responds, his hands finding Tony’s back to press him closer, the rich tunics Tony’s wearing warm against his own naked skin. His injury protests a bit at the sudden weight against it, but he ignores it in favour of chapped lips against his own.

His hands roam freely across Tony’s back, eagerly exploring the taut muscle hidden behind his clothing. Tony just keeps their faces pressed together, clearly tiptoeing to reach his lips, his hand wandering through Stephen’s hair.

Even when they break apart, Stephen gasping for air, Tony keeps them close. He presses their foreheads against each other and keeps pressing feather-light kisses against his lips, clearly determined to keep going for as long as he can.

Stephen’s injury is really starting to protest, though, so when Tony wants to kiss him again, he pushes the prince away with some regret.

‘’You know,’’ Tony says eventually, just staring at him while Stephen sits down on his bed, too bewildered to say anything, ‘’I really hate it when you call me by my title.’’

Stephen snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. ‘’Sit,’’ he says, and Tony narrows his eyes at him but does what he’s told. Only after they’ve been sitting together for a few moments, thighs touching but not doing anything else, he talks again.

‘’Tell me what you’re thinking,’’ he pleads. ‘’A simple yes or no, Stephen. You can’t keep me hanging. There’s nothing else you have to say. Please.’’

Stephen still doesn’t know what Tony wants, but the prince looks far too exhausted to have a deep conversation about feelings right now. Besides, Stephen doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. Even if he cares more about Tony than he should - this is more than he should be offered. Tony might not get married right away, but he’ll need to, one day. Stephen isn’t noble, and he won’t ever be able to give Tony an heir. So what will happen, then? And what happens when he leaves for the Sanctum?

And yet, Tony’s eyes are like a smouldering fire, focused on only him. If he can’t have eternity, he might as well steal a day. Who knows how many more either of them might have, now they are at war?

‘’Yes,’’ he says, and Tony kisses him again.

~*~

The cellars are as damp and dark as Tony remembers them being. He hasn’t been here often - no reason for him to be here, in any case. A prince isn’t supposed to deal with society’s miscreants, except in extraordinary cases. There never had been any, in Tony’s time.

Stephen stands behind him, his hands folded, his face closed off. Rhodey is next to him, but he’s more restless. Tony can’t blame him - Stephen might not know Obadiah very well, but Rhodey must feel betrayed. Like Tony, he has known Obadiah for years.

If only he could go back in time, Tony muses, and return to Stephen’s bed chambers for a little while. The world had seemed a far better place back there, but it couldn’t keep them safe forever. Besides, he needs to deal with Obadiah, if only for his own sanity.

Obadiah just sits, his expression one of amusement. He still looks the same as ever, if a bit more greasy. His clothes are a plain black, not much in the way of embroidery, and without his usual adorned tunics and finely-made capes, he looks like a normal man. No one to be afraid of, really, except for the dark shine in his eyes.

‘’You arranged to have me taken,’’ Tony says, after he’s spent a few moments staring at the man. Obadiah hadn’t seemed surprised to see him - then again, no one is a better actor than the man who has been his mentor for years.

‘’It’s no use,’’ Rhodey says quietly. ‘’He hasn’t talked to either the Ancient One or the King.’’

‘’Why should he?’’ Tony says bitterly, and against his better judgment, he sits down before Obadiah. His mentor’s eyes track him, and Tony shuffles on the floor until he’s somewhat comfortable on the cold stones. ‘’Everyone knows what he’s done. Why explain anything to anyone? What’s there to gain?’’

‘’Except nothing went as planned,’’ Stephen says, and he takes a step forward. He moves as smoothly as always, no sign of his injury in his gait. ‘’Did it, Lord Stane? You would not have ended up in a cell, if it had. You wanted the Menteri to kill the prince, only they kept him alive because they wanted more of the weapons you’d sold to them over the years. Killian was convinced of it, and you would have stopped the Knights from searching for him if you’d thought the prince had survived. Killian was meant to let the Menteri into Ireningas, and they would have murdered King Howard before anyone knew anything was wrong. The crown would fall to you, until the rightful regent could be found. And by that point, you would’ve made sure that it was you who _kept_ the crown.’’

It hadn’t taken long to figure out, once all the pieces had been put together. Tony had been filled in about most of what had happened, and he’d told Stephen about who had been selling the weapons. Betrayals upon betrayals - his heart hurts with the thought of it, only increased when he hears the loathing in Stephen’s voice and feels it echo inside himself.

‘’It doesn’t matter,’’ he says. ‘’You know all this. I’m not here because you tried to kill me, Obi, even if I trusted you. I know my history - you’re the one that taught me that every man has a price, and for most men, it’s power and money. You are no different. I’m here because you killed my mother.’’

Obadiah’s lips tilt, but he doesn’t say anything. 

‘’Tony -’’ Rhodey starts carefully, but Tony holds up a hand.

‘’No. I want to know why my mother had to die. I want to know why you waited so long to kill me and my father afterwards. I want to _know_ why it took you so many attempts when we didn’t even see it coming at all. You know you’re going to die, Obadiah, and there’s a war coming. You’re not useful to anyone anymore, because your strength was in hiding, and that time’s up. So just tell me, or the answers will be lost forever, and you’re too proud of what you’ve done to let it come to that.’’

His heart is pounding, even as the smile on Obadiah’s lip grows.

‘’Very well, boy,’’ he says eventually, and his voice is hoarse. Presumably, he hasn’t spoken in days. ‘’I’ve taught you well, it seems. Your father and the pale witch threatened me with all kinds of unspeakable things, but you’re playing it on the man. You want to know what happened to your mother?’’

‘’Tell me,’’ Tony says.

‘’I did not mean for her to die, necessarily,’’ Obadiah murmurs. ‘’She mentioned to the King that he might need to find a new advisor, though she had no proof to present to him. She must have found something, somehow. I got a potion, the Widowmaker. Despite its name, it’s not lethal unless consumed in great quantity. It causes nightmares, however - potent illusions that might drive one mad, if going on long enough.’’

‘’You meant to discredit her,’’ Stephen says.

Obadiah continues as if he hasn’t even heard the sorcerer. ‘’The dosage was wrong, I found out later. She dropped dead after the poison had taken over her system, and there was nothing to be done for it then. The tragedy helped establish my position as the King’s only true friend - and, of course, as mentor to the young and impressionable prince, so miserable without his mother.’’

Tony meets his dark eyes. Even despite the traces of regret in his voice, he doubts Obadiah really cares. His cavalier words, despite the memory dripping off them, proves that he considers it a mere nuisance at most. The death of the person who’d loved Tony most in this world, and it had been a _mistake_.

‘’Widowmaker,’’ he says. ‘’My nightmares. It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who ensured I got food, when I stopped attending dinner. You were _poisoning_ me. Discrediting me, like you wanted to do to her. Why? I was going to be kidnapped in a few months’ time, so why go to the trouble?’’

From the tenseness behind him, Tony gathers that Rhodey and Stephen hadn’t figured as far already. Tony remembers, though - Obadiah’s hand on his shoulder, the man murmuring about his concern about Tony’s refusal to go to dinners. Making sure he got his dinner.

‘’A back-up on my part,’’ Obadiah says, not denying any of the accusations. ‘’My boy, it’s always good to have another plan. You never know what might go wrong.’’

‘’That didn’t really help you, did it?’’ Rhodey mutters darkly.

‘’Why were you so focused on making Skoltia the focus of the investigation?’’ Tony presses on. ‘’You wanted this war with Menteri. You had it planned, right? So why delay the inevitable even when we had proof that it wasn’t Skoltia, anyway?’’

Obadiah is as calculating as ever, his answer slow to come. ‘’Timing.’’

‘’Just tell me,’’ Tony says, raising his voice as Obadiah leans away. ‘’You killed my mum! The least you can do is _tell me_!’’

Stephen’s hand, covered in his black glove, is a welcome pressure on his shoulder. Tony just keeps staring at the man who picked him up after his mother’s death, and allows himself to be helped up by the two men who will pick him up after finding out all of this.

‘’He’s not going to say anything,’’ Stephen says, hard as steel as he glares at the traitor. He doesn’t understand, Tony knows - Stephen hasn’t known Obadiah for long enough to know how much this affects him. But he’ll be here, at least, and Tony would have leaned against him if Rhodey hadn’t been there.

The air is warmer when they leave the cellars, and Tony has to gain an ounce of calm as he presses his head against the cold wall. He can hear servants passing, staring at him, and he is aware of Rhodey sternly sending them away. Stephen just remains standing with him, always a hand on his shoulder, like he’ll catch Tony if he falls.

‘’There are still questions that must be answered,’’ Stephen says quietly when Tony turns back, feeling like his heart is too numb to deal with any of this.

‘’He won’t answer them,’’ Tony answers hollowly. ‘’He only answered now because it’ll hurt me. To know that my mother’s death wasn’t even intended. She died for nothing.’’

Stephen is silent for a few moments, and when he answers, it isn’t about Maria. A wise choice, perhaps. ‘’He focused on Skoltia for a reason, and timing is only part of it,’’ the sorcerer says, his eyes darting towards Rhodey who is watching them intently.

‘’He didn’t want the King to focus on Menteri, because the attack needed to be swift and unexpected,’’ Rhodes says. ‘’Don’t forget that it was the Knights of Vice that made it clear that Menteri was our enemy. Obadiah had to go with it after it became common knowledge, and he worked with it. He couldn’t have counted on you finding out that Killian was a double, Stephen.’’

‘’Why Skoltia?’’ Stephen murmurs.

‘’They’re our only enemy on this continent,’’ Tony says. ‘’Who else could he suspect without being suspicious himself?’’

‘’And what if the King had gone to war with Skoltia?’’ Stephen asks, his frown deepening. ‘’I have another question. How did Killian become the Mantri? Stane held a high enough position here to hide him, but who gave him that position in Menteri? How did Stane end up with the Widowmaker potion? It’s magic, and by all accounts, extremely hard to make.’’

‘’A sorcerer?’’ Rhodey suggests.

Stephen is already shaking his head. ‘’We deal with Aspects, not potions,’’ he points out. ‘’I doubt there are many sorcerers who can make it, let alone who’d give it over to Stane for such vile purposes. And after what happened to the Queen, that sorcerer should have been aware of what had happened, even if no one else was.’’

The three stare at each other for a while. Tony doesn’t know the answers to any of these questions, and he feels exhausted even considering the implications. This war is more than it seems, and other men than Obadiah have this blood on their hands. How can they possibly win when they’re constantly running behind the facts?

He only realizes his hand is resting on the Arc again when Stephen stares at it, and he drops it awkwardly. He doesn’t know how to tell Stephen how close he came to death, especially with the sorcerer feeling so responsible about everything, but he might have to, soon.

‘’There is someone I must talk to,’’ Stephen eventually says. ‘’Let the Knights of Vice know what Stane has said. I think he will be convicted very soon.’’

Tony doesn’t allow himself to think of Obadiah like that, dead for his crimes. Instead, he nods and watches Stephen walk away, his cloak swirling behind him. 

~*~

He finds her in the courtyard, having been redirected there by a handmaid - her name was May, he believes. At any rate, she was right. It isn’t the first place Stephen would have thought to look for the Ancient One, but then again - he doesn’t seem to know her very well.

‘’I thought you might come to look for me,’’ she says, her hands folded behind her back as she stares right ahead. There’s not much to see, except for a few guards patrolling the gates of the Palace. Beyond there lies Ireningas with its people, all with questions about this war they find themselves in.

Stephen has a few questions himself.

‘’You said you would give me answers after the fight. I am here to collect.’’

‘’I don’t doubt it,’’ she says, turning to him with a weak smile. ‘’I think that, partly, you might already know the answers I’m about to tell you.’’

‘’That doesn’t excuse you from giving them to me,’’ Stephen says, because if she wants to be vague, there’s two who can play at such a game. ‘’So tell me.’’

‘’Look at the sky,’’ she says instead, and despite Stephen’s exasperation, he does. ‘’I never Mastered Space, Master Strange. Why do you think I have Master Wong to help me with portals? I’ve always loved the colour blue, and I could never bear the thought of losing it. You wouldn’t have understood that, only a year ago. You could never have considered that a colour could be more important than the power it gave you.’’

‘’Barton told me he couldn’t give up a colour,’’ Stephen murmurs, and keeps his gaze firmly focused on the grey mass above him. Not a cloud to be seen - it’s a bright day of winter, the frost painful for the scars on his hands. Perhaps he needs thicker gloves.

‘’I’ve said before that not everyone who was born with white eyes needs to be a sorcerer, necessarily,’’ the Ancient One nods. ‘’However, not everyone who is born to be a sorcerer should be one, either. Barton would not have been happy to Master one of the Aspects, but he would have done well. The answer you are looking for, Master Strange, is the answer to a very simple question that is truly hard to reply to. The question you want to ask, like so many others in life, is _why you_.’’

‘’And several additional questions,’’ Stephen adds wryly. 

‘’You know I have forwarded Time to see many of the things that have occurred,’’ she says, turning to him fully for the first time in the conversation. 

He did know that - or heavily suspect it, at least. From the moment she’d positioned him here, that bit of knowledge was implied. The way she’d looked at him, her eyes glinting and her Cloak bathed in colours falling through the stained glass - telling him that he’d lose more colours, telling him there was a grand future laid out for him. He’d never thought it would mean all of what had happened.

‘’And you saw this war, I presume.’’ He looks around him - there are no traces of any battle here, but there are plenty outside. ‘’Why did you not do anything? You could have stopped this before it even happened. You could’ve - Tony would never have to be - or my hands -’’

She tilts her head as he falls silent. So much agony that has been endured for this war that Stephen fails to see the point of - so much death and injury during the battles fought. And it still answers so few answers.

‘’You are familiar with the story of the Eye of Agamotto,’’ she says quietly.

Stephen remembers it very well. He’d told it to Tony, back when he’d just Mastered Space and he was lying in the hospital with his broken hands. He vividly recalls Tony’s mind trying to apply the tale to the situation at hand, and the way the prince’s face had twisted when he’d listened.

‘’Agamotto sat next to a tree to listen to the future generation’s complaints and fell in love with a girl,’’ Stephen narrates. ‘’He changed so much to spare them pain that the girl was never born at all. After the family’s death, he disappeared. It’s a story about Time’s fickleness.’’

‘’I could have changed the future that is now our past,’’ she says. ‘’Yes, I did know some things, though not all. I was not aware of Killian’s involvement, nor Stane’s treachery. I knew prince Anthony would be taken, yes, and I knew you would be injured. These are things you can hold against me if you must - but I doubt you will.’’

Even while her eyes are now just grey, instead of the piercing blue, Stephen still is reminded of an ocean. She would drown any opponent, he knows, but she can be gentle. She is not needlessly cruel, and never against those who she has professed her loyalty to. Unless, of course, there was a reason. The pieces are not hard to put together, with her reference to Agamotto.

‘’You were afraid to change things,’’ he murmurs, and she keeps staring at him with that faintly amused smile. ‘’Despite everything that is happening, the result is good. You don’t want to change the ending.’’

‘’There is a reason I looked forward, Stephen,’’ the Ancient One continues as she spins unexpectedly, tapping her fingers against her other hand. ‘’There are more things happening than I know of, I don’t doubt, and I would have been quite content to let matters play out as they were meant to. There is another adversary, however, that does mean to change the outcome of current events. He will come after you, eventually, for no other reason than the fact that I chose you. You are a threat, now you are a Master of so many Aspects.’’

It all seems to come down to one person, this entire time. A person Stephen hasn’t even met, and yet, all the threats and warnings -

‘’Kaecilius,’’ he says heavily. ‘’Mordo kept warning me to ask you about him.’’

‘’Mordo thinks we are treading beyond where we should,’’ she says, her voice stern. ‘’He thinks some knowledge is too dangerous to hold.’’

‘’Perhaps he is right.’’

‘’It is our duty to know these things, Master Strange.’’

‘’Except I still don’t know a thing, because you haven’t told me,’’ he says, moving to stand in front of her. ‘’Who is Kaecilius, Master? Why is he dangerous?’’

‘’You remind me of him, in certain ways,’’ she mutters. ‘’Kaecilius covets knowledge and power, Stephen, and his hunger for these things has made him dangerous. He was a Master of Power, many years ago. I thought that perhaps, when my time was up, he would be the one to follow in my footsteps. It wasn’t enough for him - the uncertainty, the waiting period. Mastering one Aspect wasn’t in his nature, and he studied more behind my back. You are not unique, Master Strange, in this respect. Kaecilius knows more about the Sanctum and its Aspects than most do, and he left a long time ago, enraged by the future he’d seen for himself.’’

‘’Is he the reason this war started?’’ Stephen asks. He has to know why they are here in the first place.

She sighs. ‘’A monster of my own making. I don’t know if he started this or continued it, but he will come here to finish matters. Just remember he does not have any answers that he did not force out of life, Stephen - magic taught by sorcerers that are not of the Sanctum or Veston, and who have their own skills. Kaecilius’ power may be tempting, but you’ll have found your own, by then.’’

‘’Have you seen that?’’ he asks.

The Ancient One turns around. Her orange tunics stand out all the more in the sea of grey.

‘’No,’’ she says, walking away. ‘’The King has ordered every sorcerer to study Power, Stephen, to ready them for the coming war.’’

Only when she disappears, Stephen realizes something. She still hadn’t answered the simplest question - why him?


	15. Purple / II

More seats are occupied than empty, which Tony can’t recall ever having been the case before. The Council is here, all wearying men with greying hair and creased faces. Tony used to think that Howard was just so self-assured that he believed no one but those men that he grew up with would know better what to do. Now he starts thinking that the King dislikes having younger people around him, people unfamiliar with his ways. 

At the very least, Howard seems restless, his hand shaking around his wine-filled cup. Tony stays still, just regarding everyone around the table. The seat to his right is empty, as that is where Obadiah used to sit, but to his left is the Ancient One, her eyes as sharp as ever. Her Master of Space, Wong, sits next to her, besides some other sorcerers that he doesn’t know personally. The princes of Asgard are there as well, Thor with a still-healing cut to his brow that he received during the battle. 

Tony himself sits next to Obadiah’s vacated seat, and just focuses on Rhodey by his side. Several other Knights, such as Romanoff and Barton, sit beside him. Pepper offers him a kind smile from the opposite of his room, and he tries to smile back at her. Ever since he came back, he’s been in a hurry. He has barely had time to talk to her.

‘’The sorcerers will be taught Power under the Sorcerer Supreme’s tutelage,’’ the King says, and Tony zones back in to the meeting. He’d rather be anywhere but here. He thinks about Stephen, who isn’t here, though he doesn’t know why - he’d rather be where Stephen is. 

‘’It isn’t the done thing,’’ Hank Pym, one of the council members, says, deepening the ever-present frown on his face. ‘’Sorcerers know one Aspect, and one only. That’s the way it’s always been done.’’

Power. That’s the only Aspect that Stephen hasn’t Mastered yet, Tony knows, apart from Soul. Except Soul can’t be Mastered, according to Stephen himself, so it shouldn’t really be counted. He wonders how Stephen will feel about losing that last shred of colour in his life.

‘’It’s something that will help us win this war,’’ Howard says stubbornly, and he might be set in his way, but his way is certainly to be revolutionary. It’s a juxtaposition Tony can see the irony of, but he just shifts in his seat and listens.

‘’What of your ally Skida?’’ Thor cuts in, leaning forward. 

‘’What of them?’’ a council member demands.

Loki sighs, pushing back his brother with one hand. ‘’What he means, dear Council,’’ he says, his annoyance plain behind his dulcet tones, ‘’is that you have put forward a great many plans to defeat Menteri, but your ally has not arrived yet. Has King Nicholas sent message?’’

‘’Asgard is not our ally,’’ Pym says. ‘’Why is it a concern of you?’’

‘’They saved me,’’ Tony interrupts, and catches his hand before it goes to his Arc again. ‘’I hope, Sir Pym, that you don’t mistrust the princes. Asgard may not be our ally, but they aren’t our enemy either. They’ve fought against Menteri, and they are invited guests.’’

‘’Perhaps an explanation is due,’’ the Ancient One says, and she looks towards Tony. He meets her gaze boldly. Despite her position and Stephen’s fondness of her, he’s not sure he likes her. 

‘’More than one,’’ Howard mutters, but waves her hand at her so she’ll continue.

She looks around the table for a moment. ‘’I’ve been in contact with Queen Frigga of Asgard,’’ she says bluntly. ‘’Asgard does not remain unaffected in this conflict. As some of you may be aware, Queen Frigga has what the Aesir call _seidr_ , and what we call magic. She has been worried about Menteri’s intentions with this war. The princes were equally so, and she sent them to find the Mantri, like they wanted. They are free to join our battle, if they so wish, though not in the name of Asgard.’’

‘’Is that the smart thing to do?’’ Romanoff asks. ‘’If either of the brothers are killed, we might make an enemy out of Asgard.’’

‘’Hardly so,’’ Loki assures her, a slight smile twitching on his lips. ‘’Our father is fully aware of the consequences. Besides, our sister Hela is the heiress to the crown. Trust me, Asgard has no interest in making enemies out of those who haven’t sought out war.’’

‘’Asgard is not of interest, right now. Skida will come to our aid, but we mean to attack Menteri from both sides,’’ Howard says, brusquely returning to the topic at hands. ‘’We must destroy any chance they have at returning and finish this once and for all. Their forces cannot withstand two armies. This is still our fight, however, and we are in charge. That is why I want my own Knights in charge. Knight Rogers, you will take Knight Romanoff and Barton to Skida with a Master of Space. King Nicholas will have you work with his own agents, but you are in charge, ultimately.’’

‘’Yes, my King,’’ Rogers says, nodding. 

‘’That is all for now,’’ Howard says, rising. His hands are still trembling, Tony sees, spots of age on loose skin. His father is an old man, and it’s never been as apparent to him as it is now. 

In the scraping of chairs, Tony keeps his eyes fixed on his father, and waits until everyone else has appeared. He only shares a meaningful glance with Rhodey and Pepper before they disappear. Howard still stands there, leaning on his chair.

‘’What about you?’’ he asks quietly. Howard glances at him - he may be old, but he’s not insane. Tony has spent years being mad at him, and he’s not exactly stopped doing so. They are not the same, but there’s a core that is similar. Maybe that is why Tony is so angry - he knows what his father could be - used to be, before his mother’s death. 

‘’What about me?’’ Howard repeats. ‘’You have to be clearer, boy.’’

‘’During the battle,’’ Tony says. ‘’Who’s going to stay with you? You can’t come to Menteri.’’

‘’I will lead the attacks with the Sorcerer Supreme, as much as I loathe that woman.’’ Howard takes a step forward. It’s almost as if he is going to walk on as if Tony isn’t here, but then he stands still right before he passes Tony.

‘’You’re going to fight?’’ he asks. It’s hard to imagine Howard running up to someone, sword raised high. Certainly his father used to be quite the warrior, but that was before Tony was even born.

Howard turns to him. ‘’I will not repeat myself unnecessarily,’’ the King says slowly. ‘’You are an awful lot like your mother, Anthony, but she wasn’t in the habit of trying to get me out of things that she should not. I am still your King, and that means I have a duty.’’

‘’Obadiah killed her,’’ Tony says, despite the fact he didn’t even mean to talk about this. He’s never talked with his father about anything of substance.

The King nods, and his face turns away. ‘’Don’t trust the wrong people, boy,’’ he says gruffly. He stands there for a second more, and then just walks without looking back. Tony stares after him for a while.

Pepper looks at him as the door opens and Howard disappears around the corner. She holds it open, her knuckles white as she puts more force in it than she should. She’s not a warrior, though she is brave. Tony just sighs.

‘’Are you alright?’’ she asks, pinched.

_You are an awful lot like your mother, Anthony._

‘’Yeah,’’ he says eventually, because there are some things that can’t be shared.

~*~

He finds him waiting in his personal chambers. 

‘’How did you get past Happy?’’ Tony demands when Stephen is calmly sitting behind his desk, reading a tome that must be around Tony’s weight.

Stephen’s smile crooks. ‘’Space,’’ he says smoothly. ‘’How did you?’’

‘’Set him up on a date with May,’’ Tony says, grinning. ‘’You know, the maid? If I catch those two making eyes at each other again, I’m going to lock them in a room. Maybe the forgery, because I can speed things up there. Make it very hot, you know, so maybe they’ll lose some clothes and realize they’re all bothered for each other.’’

‘’You have a diabolical mind, my prince,’’ Stephen murmurs, rising from the chair and standing far too close to Tony for his own good. 

Tony just presses their lips together, enjoying the way that Stephen’s hands roam over his back and lower. The sorcerer isn’t wearing his gloves now, and Tony can see them lying on his desk, but he doesn’t care about that now.

He pushes Stephen on the bed, enjoying the minute surprise he sees in Stephen’s eyes. Under the sorcerer’s skilful ministrations, his clothes are already halfway to being undone and he wouldn’t mind losing them entirely.

Except that Stephen zooms in on something that Tony hadn’t thought of, and his grin disappears.

‘’What’s that?’’ he demands, sitting up straight before Tony can cover himself up again. ‘’Tony?’’

‘’A souvenir from my trip to Menteri,’’ he says, trying to keep the mood light. ‘’They’re all the trend there, didn’t you know? Now, Stephen, I think you were -’’

But Stephen isn’t listening anymore. Instead, he’s risen from the bed, his scarred fingers continuing their work of helping Tony out of his upper outerwear. Only when his chest is naked does Stephen seem to be satisfied. The blue glow makes him even paler than he actually is, and Tony just watches Stephen stare at the Arc.

‘’It’s magic,’’ Stephen murmurs, and looks up to Tony. ‘’Can I -’’

‘’It’s not your kind of magic,’’ Tony says, even as he nods. Stephen’s fingers might be scarred, but they’re long and delicate, and they touch him with the utmost tenderness. His expression is almost awed, but in a wounded way, when he explores the device.

‘’It’s Space, but different,’’ the sorcerer says, and the pulse of the Arc brightens further at his touch. ‘’It requires no sorcerer, but it gives life to itself. That’s - I don’t know what Aspect that is. It can only be Soul, but nothing more than a hint.’’

‘’I thought Soul couldn’t be Mastered?’’ Tony demands.

Stephen seems to only barely hear him. ‘’Soul is the Aspect of life and death,’’ he explains quietly, not done with looking at the Arc. ‘’And it doesn’t feel like it’s been - how do I say this? It wasn’t administered to you. If there’s Soul here, it’s because it came to you. No one can Master it, because no one can touch it.’’

‘’Someone helped me with it,’’ Tony says. ‘’I made the casing, but someone - he was a Menteri sorcerer, but he saved my life. He didn’t differentiate between the Aspects, but I know he put Space in there to keep everything where it’s supposed to be. I’d die without it, Stephen. It’s - my heart, you know.’’

Stephen’s gaze is dark on him, and he doesn’t expect the sorcerer to kiss him, but he does. Soft and slowly, and Tony hopes that his own chapped lips aren’t a nuisance to him. Not when he enjoys this so much.

‘’During the battle,’’ Stephen mutters, ‘’where will you be?’’

It’s the same question he asked Howard only a little while ago. Now he understands why his father hated it so much - the underlying assumption of weakness, fragility, all the things that Tony isn’t. No matter how much the Menteri have beaten him down, he’s still ready to fight. 

‘’Next to you,’’ he says sharply. ‘’You might have to learn Power, now, but I’ve already been taught how to hold a sword and swing it. I’m not an idiot, Stephen, and I’m not some delicate cripple. I’ve got a duty, same as you.’’

The pained expression on Stephen’s face is almost worth it. Almost. The sorcerer steps back. ‘’That’s not what I meant,’’ he says. ‘’Tony - I want you to be safe. With this - you asked me, and I said yes. And I don’t know what it means for the future, but you have been through something traumatic. You can’t ask me not to worry.’’

‘’I know what I want,’’ Tony says, crossing his arms. ‘’Do you?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Stephen says, for the second time, and Tony isn’t sure if he really does. 

But then he kisses him again, and there isn’t enough doubt in the world to make Tony stop him - not while he can roam his hands over Stephen’s smooth back, instead, and stop doubting for just two seconds.

So instead of gasping for air, he allows Stephen to become his air as they fall back on the bed. They don’t come up for a while, and Tony keeps his grip on the sorcerer tight - as if Stephen is his lifeline, and if he’ll let go, all will be lost.

If he lets go, all will be lost.

~*~

The purple shines in his hand like a beacon. He’s not sure what the beacon signals, in this case, but Stephen’s eyes just follow the purple fire like it’s the only thing in life worth looking at.

He’s not sure how to feel about losing purple. It’s beyond doubt, to him, that he will. Somehow, even though he’s learning to control these Aspects, he’s losing control over himself. He keeps finding himself with fewer colours to see, after all.

‘’Now throw it at the ground,’’ the Ancient One says sternly, and seven Masters besides Stephen follow the instructions. The ground in the courtyard rumbles as the purple disperses into the stones, overgrown with moss.

‘’Great,’’ Stephen mutters to himself as his own surge barely makes a dent in the stones. He’d thought, somehow, that he’d be the first to Master Power of all the sorcerers that were appointed with the task. After all, he’d Mastered Reality with relatively little trouble. Now it seems that he is already filled up with other Aspects.

‘’Stephen.’’ The Ancient One is already staring at him when he looks up at her. ‘’Power isn’t about external strength. You have to _feel_ power, confidently, and it’ll come to you.’’

‘’It’s not coming to me,’’ he snaps, barely understanding why he’s taking this so hard. It’s not as if he necessarily wants to learn Power - he was ready to call it to a quit months and colours ago. He was content to become a Master of Time, and now here he is, studying a fifth Aspect.

The other sorcerers glance at him, murmuring amongst themselves. Stephen isn’t an idiot - he knows full well that they’re aware he knows more than one Aspect. Beck and Foster were there when he used Reality to lure in Aldrich, even if he hadn’t been a Master yet back then. It’s a secret, officially, but he hates that they all know. That they all disapprove, the people he’s been trying to join for years.

‘’I thought you would take to this more easily,’’ the Ancient One says, a hint of severity in the tightening of her lips. ‘’You’ve always been overly confident in your youth, even when you shouldn’t have been.’’

‘’Maybe you should’ve taught me back then,’’ Stephen says, and turns around to leave. He is done with this place - done with this war, done with this endless concern that gnaws at him.

In reality, not much is wrong. He’s spent several nights with Tony, now, and the prince’s wicked smile is never far from his mind. A solid plan for the battle is in play, and Stephen only needs to Master Power so that he can be on the front lines along with Tony. 

That’s the problem, perhaps. He remembers Tony sleeping, this morning, his hair tousled and clutching at his cover as he dreamt. Stephen doesn’t want to think about him armoured for battle, a sword in his hand and blood on his lips. The shock of finding the Arc in Tony’s chest hasn’t fully left him - and he suspects it hasn’t fully left Tony, no matter the brave facade the prince hides behind.

He breathes out in frustration only when he’s leaning against the grey wall that leads back into the Palace, stones poking into his back. His injury protests a bit at the speed he’d walked away with, but he’s certain it hasn’t opened up. The cut is healing nicely, a darker line on his body that might not even scar.

‘’Master Strange.’’

It’s another prince than the one that Stephen would most like to see. Loki tilts his head, his eyes glinting with curiosity. He’s closing his book, barely even looking as he makes it disappear entirely without muttering a word. 

Stephen pushes himself off the wall. The least he can do is be civil - after all, he knows very well that Tony wouldn’t have come home without the Asgardian brothers. How the prince knows of his existence, however, remains a mystery.

‘’Good afternoon, prince Loki,’’ he says. 

‘’I’ve heard much about you,’’ the prince says, almost pleasantly. ‘’You seem to have created quite the buzz with your fellow sorcerers. I must say, I’m intrigued.’’

Stephen raises his eyebrows. ‘’If I’ve done anything to warrant court gossip, I’m afraid it was quite unintentional,’’ he says dryly. ‘’I’m not much one for indulging into hearsay, prince.’’

‘’I don’t doubt it.’’ Loki comes closer. ‘’Forgive me, Master Strange. The Court of the Aesir is not so different, I have found, and I’ve made my life all the more pleasant by listening to the tattle of those deeming themselves noble. Simply to make life easier, you see? Avoid those who hate you, do a favour those who might assist you in the future. Court isn’t simply annoying, you see. Court can kill you.’’

‘’I’m not sure they’d go that far,’’ Stephen says, wondering what horrors lurk in Asgard’s royal house.

Loki’s lips twitch for a second. ‘’Perhaps not,’’ he agrees. ‘’However, it’s wartime, and people always get restless unless they have someone to blame. It’s human nature, after all. The King might be awfully protective of his son and his future, in this time of uncertainty. I doubt he listens to rumours that simple maids are spreading, Master Strange, but you ought to - be more careful as to whom you aim your affection.’’

‘’Why are you saying this?’’ Stephen asks, wondering if it’s a threat or a warning. Perhaps it’s both. He’d thought that Thor was someone to keep his eye on, the strapping man stronger than most of their Knights, but now he suspects that Loki’s mind might be far sharper and bloodier than Thor’s weapons.

Loki shrugs, even that movement graceful. ‘’One black sheep to a potential other one,’’ he murmurs. ‘’My mother might like you, Strange.’’

With that, the other sorcerer leaves. Stephen stares after him. ‘’Wait,’’ he says. ‘’What do you know of Kaecilius? Does he know the magic of the Aesir?’’

The pause in Loki’s step is only minute, but then he turns. ‘’I have never met the man, if he ever came to Asgard,’’ the prince says. ‘’But everyone knows the magic of the Aesir, Master Strange. We don’t divide it up as neatly as you do - you know Aspects, but to us those are merely parts of a whole, held together by the tree Yggdrasil.’’

His steps barely echo when he leaves, this time, and Stephen exhales. _Do a favour those who might assist you in the future_. Loki is trying to help him, in a way, and Stephen should heed his advice. If his affection for Tony is being talked of amongst the maids, then he should stay hidden. He can’t imagine what would happen, if Tony would be found with such an inappropriate suitor - if Stephen were found with the prince. Not even the Ancient One could save him from such a scandal.

He creates a purple fire in his hand, and isn’t surprised when it flickers out of existence.

~*~

The newly-created crown has only barely cooled off enough when Tony takes it, his fingers prickling with heat as he regards his new creation. His old crown, the unassuming piece of unpolished silver, sits on a desk nearby.

There is no good reason for Tony to have made this, he thinks - except that there’s maybe all the reason. He used to hate court with every fibre of his being; the fake laughter, the pointless conversation. Even now, the thought of going back to untruth-filled nobles and their eyes darting in search of secrets fills him with dread. And yet, something has changed.

He can’t hide any longer. He is the crown prince of Veston, and they are at war. His godfather has betrayed him to torture and his mother to death, and his father is a cold man who needs to be saved from his own foolish notions. There’s no one left but Tony to pick up what needs to be done and make sure no one else will die in vain.

The rubies are red as blood, set in gold. It’s still not a large crown, but it will provide a good contrast to his dark hair. 

He’d picked a sword, he remembers. The day he had gifted Stephen with one, he’d picked another out for himself. It’s still here, equally gold with red. It might do, he decides, as he grasps the handle. He hasn’t been able to defend himself with it so far, but that time will come far sooner than he’d like. 

The crown isn’t too heavy, when Tony puts it on, but it’s certainly more noticeable than the last one he wore. The sword feels right in his hand, and he closes his eyes, tightening his grip. He can’t be just Tony, any longer - the boy who didn’t need guards and Knights and sorcerers to protect him. If he wants to fight this war, he has to learn to be more.

‘’Prince Anthony?’’ a timid voice comes. He opens his eyes to see Friday coming in, her blue-eyed gaze lingering on his newly-crafted crown and the sword.

He smiles gently and twirls the sword. ‘’Do I look like a prince, now?’’ he asks. 

Friday’s eyebrow twitches as she looks up and down. ‘’As royal as I’ve ever seen you,’’ she says, the dry tone in her voice not belying the actual sincerity in that statement. ‘’You’ve been down here for a while now. We brought you lunch, if you’d want it.’’

With that said, a new maid enters. ‘’Good afternoon, May,’’ Tony greets her, and lays down the sword. 

May offers him a quiet smile and puts down a tray with simple bread and soup. At least Tony can be assured it won’t be laced with Widowmaker, this time. No more nightmares.

‘’It’s not much,’’ May says, ‘’but it’ll keep you fed and alive, my prince.’’

‘’Eat with me,’’ Tony offers before they leave. He’s been sitting here for a while now, and he isn’t ready to go upstairs yet. There’ll be the court to deal with, and planning for the war, and Rhodey will be wanting to train with him to make sure he’s up to it, and Stephen will want to check him over and rest his fingers on the Arc - and Tony is ready to become the prince, but he just wants a few more minutes.

Friday has known him for a while now, and she doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside him and grab a piece of bread. May has a moment of hesitation, but then she joins her friend, only taking the bread when Tony offers it to her.

‘’You’re easier to take care of than Sir Pym,’’ Friday says. ‘’He always had a complaint, that man. He’s not necessarily rude, you know, but he’s so absent-minded that he forgets to give out details about what he wants.’’

She must’ve switched to him while Tony was in Menteri. He just grins at her half-hearted complaint. ‘’While food, as a whole, is only a minor detail to me. What do you think, miss May? You have the whole castle to attend to, if I remember correctly.’’

‘’It was something to get used to, certainly,’’ May says, warming up to the conversation a bit as she nibbles at the bread. ‘’I ran the household for the Parker family, when I lived with them in Brichley. They were only two people to take care of, and they had very few demands. Well, until Miss Mary fell pregnant, of course, there was a lot of work then.’’

Her gaze is far away as she talks, her tone fond and wistful at the same time. ‘’Why did you leave?’’ Tony asks her gently.

May’s look snaps to him, something resembling a flush settling on her cheeks. ‘’When little Peter was born, they needed a maid who could take care of the boy as well, and they couldn’t afford two maids. So I was sent here.’’

‘’You could return, maybe,’’ Tony offers. ‘’After the war is done. You can take Happy with you and visit them, if you miss them. Brichley is only a couple of hours to the east.’’

A knock comes, this time, though the new visitor doesn’t wait for an affirmation before coming in. Pepper doesn’t seem to be surprised to see the two maids sitting with Tony, a glance in his direction the only indicator that she has even seen them.

‘’We should go,’’ Friday says, rising and helping May up with her. ‘’Thank you for your generosity, prince Anthony. Good day, Miss Potts.’’

She shares a look with Pepper before she leaves, May sending him one last smile before the two maids disappear. Pepper just sighs as she sits down where Friday sat before, helping herself to some of the leftover meal.

‘’Not that I’m against such welcome guests, but why are you here?’’ Tony asks.

‘’I just needed you to know that this court is insane,’’ Pepper mutters, ‘’and suicidal, and I preferred planning that ball for you over this house of madness. Your father is going into battle, at his age, and I need to find the funds to pay and clothe all the men we have, and that is nothing to say of the life insurance the Crown will be paying. This battle hasn’t even started, and we’re bled dry.’’

‘’Wars are expensive,’’ Tony affirms, slinging an arm around her shoulders. ‘’We wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t necessary, you know.’’

‘’It’s not,’’ she says miserably, though she leans her head against him. ‘’I don’t know if I can do this, Tony. James and you - I can’t see the two of you kill yourselves. I won’t be part of it, and here I am, buying the armour and swords. You’re going to kill yourselves for - what, exactly?’’

‘’For the safety of our people,’’ Tony tells her firmly. ‘’I’m done playing games, Pepper. You _know_ that this is the right thing to do. Menteri will end us all, if they get the chance. This, here - this is our chance to put a stop to the madness. No matter the cost to ourselves.’’

‘’You might survive this war, but we also have to survive the aftermath.’’ Pepper sounds weary, her hair itching against Tony’s bare arm. 

‘’We will,’’ he promises her. ‘’We will.’’

~*~

‘’How will you ever Master Power,’’ a dry voice comes, ‘’when you’re afraid of it?’’

Stephen snuffs out the tiny purple flame as he eyes Wong, gently setting down five manuscripts next to him. They almost fall apart from old age, and Stephen suspects the pages would be closer to yellow than white, had he been able to see the colour.

‘’I’m not afraid of Power,’’ Stephens says, and he tries not to relive the memories that are playing in his mind - duelling in Kamar-Taj, the flash of purple that Mordo could always conjure so easily meeting with the slowing green force of Stephen’s aptitude to Time. The sparks that had flown above his head, the air prickling with the heaviness of the Mystic Arts.

No, Stephen isn’t afraid of Power. He’s afraid of the consequences that Mastering it might hold. 

Wong grunts in discomfort as he slides into the chair next to Stephen’s, his face moody as always. He shoves the pile of manuscripts into his direction, arresting him with a stern glare.

‘’Reading these might enhance your understanding of Power,’’ the Master of Space says quietly, ‘’but they won’t bring you Mastery. No written word has that -’’

‘’Power?’’ Stephen finishes wryly. ‘’I’m well aware, Master Wong. Thank you for the manuscripts.’’

Wong doesn’t abide by the clear dismissal, however. He remains seated, staring at Stephen. The silence drags on while Stephen focuses on the manuscripts, almost glaring at them as he forces the information inside. He knows more about Power than he knew about most other Aspects, when he started, if only because he’d had to listen to Mordo quote the old Masters to him.

‘’I wanted to be a Master of Power, when I started,’’ Wong says suddenly. ‘’I like to think I would have been a good one.’’

Stephen looks up, at that. Wong is a powerful sorcerer, to be sure; one doesn’t become the Ancient One’s right-hand without certain skills. One thing that he is not, however, is intimidating. Wong isn’t like Mordo - he prefers being in the library, in the background, following the Sorcerer Supreme easily and without hesitation. He is not a powerful figure.

‘’Why?’’ he asks eventually, as it becomes apparent Wong won’t let him return to his reading.

Wong extends his hand, his palm upwards. A small purple spark flutters above it, growing larger with every second until it’s so tall that it could set the ceiling on fire, had Wong chosen to do so. The purple reflects on Wong’s face, until the spark disappears, and most colour vanishes from Stephen’s life again.

For a moment, he misses the vibrancy, and he resents himself for it.

‘’There is one thing that is so simple, no Master of Power has ever thought to put it in writing,’’ Wong says, inclining his head at the manuscripts that still lie between them. ‘’Power requires control, Master Strange, or it’ll burn everyone in its path. If you don’t _feel_ in control, you will never Master it.’’

He rises then, patting the books lovingly. Stephen just looks as the sorcerer leaves, wondering if there’s anyone left in the world who doesn’t want him to lose purple as much as he doesn’t want to.

~*~

‘’Rumours,’’ Tony murmurs, tracing Stephen’s pale collar bone with two of his fingers. The sorcerer is warm against him, his naked chest accessible for exploration. ‘’We’re on the brink of war for the first time in decades, and you’re worried about _rumours_? Stephen Strange, you’ve been in court for over half a year. You must know that there is little else that nobles do but gossip. Are you truly that surprised that people are talking about you and me?’’

‘’It will have consequences,’’ Stephen says, though he seems content enough to let Tony map out every part of his body. His lips are red; his eyes follow Tony’s every movement, and Tony lets out a laugh. ‘’It must remain a secret.’’

‘’Stephen, I’m the prince. You think this is the first indiscretion I’ve committed? You should’ve been here two years ago - I thought my father was all but ready to disown me. If only he’d had another son. It’s war, people have other concerns. And even if they didn’t - well, what are they going to do? Look, don’t worry - the maids are some of the most talkative in the Palace, but there’s a lot of rumours going around about everything. With the war going on, they’ll find something else to talk about, and they’ll forget. It’s still a secret, don’t worry. No one knows anything for certain, and no one will.’’

Stephen sighs and pulls Tony up, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Tony is oddly touched by the gesture, curling his toes at the show of affection. He draws up the blanket with him, snuggling into Stephen’s neck.

‘’There is a plan,’’ he murmurs against Tony’s hair. ‘’The Ancient One has seen this war end in our favour, though I’m not sure what she saw. If we - I can’t do anything to endanger that, Tony. Endanger _you_ like that, even if I desperately want this.’’

It’s the first time that Stephen has shown how much he truly means it. Tony doesn’t mind the stolen nights - they’re both busy, and there’s little romance left in the morning when there’s war councils to attend - but he hadn’t fully realized how much he _wants_ this. How content he feels, to see Stephen’s unnaturally blue eyes rest on him, and how tender he is when he listens to Stephen’s quiet breathing in the middle of the night, his warm breath on Tony’s cheek. 

Stephen is right, of course. Howard will hardly let Tony continue, after all their troubles have ended. The search for a wife will continue, and Tony will be expected to marry. He’d told himself that he had all the time to get this irrational desire out of his blood - to just do this before Stephen earned his place in the Sanctum and left. When Stephen speaks in that low voice of his, though, Tony isn’t sure whether this will ever leave.

If he’s ever to have a wife, he thinks he’d still rather have Stephen Strange lying on the other side of the bed, quietly whispering in his ear. His magic fingers undressing him, his cold lips pressed against Tony’s.

‘’I’d go mad without you,’’ Tony whispers, and knows it’s true when he voices it. Stephen just tightens his hold on him. 

‘’Tony -’’

‘’The court talks about everything,’’ he continues, looking up to meet the sorcerer’s gaze. ‘’They always do, Stephen - they always have. The only thing they don’t have to know is what it means. That’s ours - the only thing that belongs to us, in this place. And when this war is over - when we’re both here again - we’ll go to your home. Remember that you told me about it? Dosham. It’ll be a time without the secrecy.’’

‘’I don’t know what’s going to happen after the war,’’ Stephen says, and he doesn’t sound scared, but there’s a fragility to his tone that indicates it anyway, and Tony knows, he _knows_. ‘’But I’ll be here, Tony. Nobles or not.’’

There will be consequences, Stephen had said. Tony knows there will be - there always are, of course. He had never cared much about them, however, and he can’t find himself to care now. Because if he cared, he’d have to let go of Stephen’s chest, and tell him to stop stroking Tony’s arm, and there is little in this world that would compel him to do that.

No consequences could ever take away the fact that Stephen is here now, and that’s all he needs, when he’s not quite sure what any day will bring.


	16. Purple / III

‘’I’m glad your training is going better,’’ the Ancient One says mildly, glancing a little further away. ‘’That you are more in - control, should I say?’’

Stephen follows her glance to see Tony standing away, his armour glinting in the sun. He has a new sword, his hold on it steady. A new crown decorates his hair, and Stephen idly wonders how long it’ll be before he can slide his fingers through the curls again and kiss Tony’s nape.

His old mentor is clearly aware of the rumours, then, though Stephen supposes it would have been foolish to expect her not to know. As she’d said, it is their job to know certain things, and this appears to be one of these things. 

‘’To a degree,’’ Stephen says, trying to match her evenness. Certainly his control over Power had improved after Tony had laughed away all his fears - even though he’s quite sure that Tony is aware that they won’t last forever. If they both survive this war, they’ll be ripped apart anyway, whether they win or they lose. If they lose - well, that’s the only way that Stephen and Tony could perhaps stay together. He can’t justify that option to himself, though, as he thinks of the soldiers that had been buried after that first battle. His duty is to protect Veston, first and foremost, not his own heart.

‘’I have a Test for you,’’ the Ancient One says, overriding his thoughts. ‘’King Howard means to march as soon as possible, despite my protests, and you will have to Master Power before we leave.’’

Stephen shuffles, the ground underneath his feet giving easily. It’s been raining, and the Palace floors will be trodden with mud when the day ends. 

‘’He’s not listening to you anymore, is he?’’ he demands quietly, watching her intently as her shoulders straighten.

‘’That would be to assume he ever did put much stock in my words,’’ the Ancient One says dryly. ‘’The King is a self-assured man, Master Strange, who puts little faith in the Mystic Arts. He has only ever listened to me in as far as it suited him.’’

‘’And yet he didn’t seem inclined to believe you when you told him Tony still lived.’’

Stephen has gathered, by now, that the Sorcerer Supreme and the King aren’t necessarily on the greatest terms. He’d never believed them to be, but the situation must be far more dire than he’d ever suspected. Tony had told him about it once, the fierce dislike his father holds for Stephen’s old mentor - though he hadn’t seemed to know where it stems from.

A forlorn smile touches the Ancient One’s lips. ‘’I have gained his trust in a meager capacity when it comes to this kingdom, but I lost it forever when it comes to his family. We are here to serve the kingdom, Stephen, not the King. He is fully aware of it.’’

‘’Is that why he hated it so much when I came to guard the prince?’’ Stephen asks, contemplating the days he had only just arrived. ‘’He wanted me to fail. He still assigned all those Knights to him when I was there. But why send Tony to the Sanctum, in that case?’’

‘’He trusts you to protect the Kingdom.’’ She exhales as she turns her eyes back upon the Palace. ‘’And he trusts the sorcerers to guard the heir to the crown. And Howard is still clever enough to know the Sanctum is the safest place to be, despite his misgivings. Do not concern yourselves with the prejudices of old men, even if they’re kings. We do not have the power to undo every injustice in this world.’’

She falls silent, after that, and Stephen wonders about her words. For some reason, he starts to believe that Howard might blame her for Maria’s death. Eager to get away from the subject, he straightens his shoulders.

‘’Another Test, you said?’’

‘’Power,’’ she says, without missing a beat. ‘’And I already got us a few Knights who’d enjoy the practice.’’ 

The Ancient One turns to an armoured group that stood a little further away. With a hand gesture, they quit practicing and come over. When they are nearer, Stephen recognizes some of them - Thor is the broadest of them, his face lit up with a bright smile. Loki walks next to him, seeming infinitely less interested, and he’s wearing barely any armour. The others are a few guards and Knights that Stephen has seen around the halls - Everett Ross is there, waving imperceptibly, though he doesn’t know the names of the others.

‘’We’re very pleased to help you, Master Strange!’’ Thor says as he joins them, ‘’I must say, I’m awfully interested in fighting one of you sorcerer types. Loki has his tricks, but they become obvious when you’ve known him as long as I have!’’

‘’And yet you still manage to lose,’’ Loki mutters under his breath as he crosses his arms, though he doesn’t seem exceedingly annoyed.

Thor just laughs, and doesn’t deny the words. Stephen smiles warily and looks towards the Ancient One.

‘’I’m not sure I can manage a Test,’’ he says thoughtfully, though he can already feel Power unleashing in his body, ready to sear the world. ‘’I can summon it, but that’s not the same as controlling it. If I injure them -’’

‘’Just try to be careful about us injuring you,’’ Ross says, though his voice is far more cheerful than threatening. ‘’Prince Thor is really elated. I think it’s more likely for him to lose control.’’

‘’An astute observation,’’ Thor says just as optimistically. ‘’Truly, Master Strange, you fail to remember I saw you fainting in your own blood not too long ago!

‘’A Test for Power is one of the easiest things to arrange.’’ The Ancient One takes a few steps back, her hands hidden behind her back and her true intentions hidden behind a tilted smile. ‘’You have everything you need to Master it, do you not, Master Strange? In only days, you’ve gained the necessary control to tear down a full-grown tree and bring down a building, should you need to. So why wait?’’

There’s nothing Stephen can say to that, except the truth. The truth, intrinsically and irrevocably, is something that he needs to figure out before he can utter the words that would convey it to his mentor. The truth, paradoxically and ironically, may not be what he has perceived so far at all.

The truth is that while things seem to be as good as they can be, between him and Tony - Stephen feels anxious. He can only imagine Tony riding off into an army that is intent on his destruction, and this time, he imagines Tony to be the one whose grey-coloured blood smudges his armour. The truth is that Stephen has always, in a way, known that if it came to it, he’d die for his duty. Stephen would die, because he has learnt what life means, and recently, what this pure unadulterated adoration is that clenches his heart like a sponge every time Tony absent-mindedly brushes his curls behind his ears. 

He _knows_ , and there’s so many other people who know in their own way, and he sees it as his duty to protect each and all of them. He has, all his life, and not simply because he was taught so. If he thinks about Donna, like he hasn’t in years, then he only thinks of how he always fretted over her inconsequential injuries and how he wanted her to be happy. 

The truth is that while Stephen in some vague, unknowing way, knows that this is his battle to fight - he also knows that seeing Tony fight would mean that once again, Tony would take hold of his heart and _squeeze_. 

None of this, of course, is anything that Stephen knows how to put into words without losing his reputation as a sane and rational being. And he might have gained more control of Power after realizing Tony knew the dangers of them being together, but the fear of losing Tony entirely remains. 

So why wait with his Test? Perhaps because Stephen’s not sure what happens when someone knows full well how to use Power, and still isn’t in a position to Master it. How can he, when his life as he knows it is in complete disarray? Not only with Tony, but with an entire war on their doorstep, and Stephen placed far too highly in the ranks to be comfortable. He was the youngest Master in years, but with scarred hands and eyes that can’t see the colour of the sky, or the forests, or the brightest parts of a flame, nor his own blood - what does he have left to give?

Purple, he decides wearily, finally looking up to the people he’s left staring at him for far too long. Loki seems impatient, though Thor and Everett Ross don’t show a thought on their faces about the unhurried nature of Stephen’s thought process.

The Ancient One is as unreadable as ever, her hands still hidden and her back straightened. In the overclouded daylight, the small crinkles next to her eyes are fairly prominent. She has never _looked_ old, not to Stephen, though she must have felt it at times - he wonders if Mordo was right in walking away from her, this enigmatic mystery with her continuous use of oxymorons and her unsparing way of aspiring to make all sorcerers the best they can be - to protect Veston, in every way she deems necessary.

_So why wait?_

He remembers her question, and exhales. The new breath seems to bolster Power in him, and he thinks that if he looked at his veins, they’d flicker as purple as a bruise.

‘’I didn’t need a Test before,’’ he says, his voice low as he watches her carefully for any sign of - he doesn’t know what he’s searching for. ‘’The one Test I did - I’d been preparing years for that.’’

‘’We had more time, then,’’ the Ancient One says just as calmly, and stares back. Yes, she would strip him of all he has to offer to guarantee Veston’s security. Stephen can see it now, in what used to be the blue of her eyes that turned grey months ago. The only thing he doesn’t know is why him - always, why him.

‘’Don’t worry, friend,’’ Thor assures him, nearing as he clasps a hand on his back. Stephen is by no means short, but Thor stands taller than him, perhaps twice as broad. ‘’Just think of this as a particularly interesting fight! We’re always up for that.’’

It’s not as if Stephen hasn’t already accepted. Even if the Ancient One has her reasonings, and ones that she won’t share with him, he knows why she does this. So he averts his gaze towards the three warriors that stand before him, and takes a step back, shuffling into a fighting stance, his fist forward. If they want to test his Power, let them.

Thor’s grin is the kind of expression that takes up his entire face - its beam is directed at Stephen for a second before the prince of Asgard strikes, as Stephen suspected.

It seems like an odd trio to assemble for his fight, but the Ancient One never does anything without reason. Stephen can feel rather than see her step back and brushes Mind over the fighters before him. All of them are remarkably different in nature, none of them having even closely the same strategy. Thor’s focus is on strength and endurance, keeping his enemy fighting and relying on his own exceptional stamina. Loki, however, prefers to wait out and revert any strike to his own advantage. Ross is a more careful fighter, unassuming until a great moment of need - waiting for a weakness and injuring someone before taking him down.

This is a Test for Power, so using the other Aspects will be mostly cheating. He keeps Mind focused, however, because that won’t be the turning point of the fight anyway. Besides, there is no fair fight - only the fights you win and the fights you lose, and he’s already outnumbered. Giving up advantages isn’t noble, but rather pointless. If he has to use Time or Reality to gain an edge - well, it’s not as if Loki won’t use his _seidr_.

The combination of Loki and Thor is a dangerous one, and Stephen ducks underneath Thor’s punch to fling some Power at Loki. If Thor wears him out, then Loki will be quick to jump on his weakness - and if Loki turns his own attacks against him, Thor will have him down and finished in under a second. He deems the second of those options the more dangerous, especially with Ross to consider. There is no doubt that this fight will have to be short if he is to make use of his advantages; he won’t be able to hold out three to one long enough for Thor to weary him, not with fighters of this aptitude.

Loki is the first one he needs to take out, then. Unfortunately, the Asgardian sorcerer manages to ward off his spell with one of his own, slamming it into the ground. Some gravel flies up and hits his legs, though Stephen is already busy to get out of the way of Thor’s elbow that’s coming his way rather suddenly.

He exhales and kicks at Thor’s lower legs, missing and nearly slipping. He twirls back, only to end up on his back when Everett tackles him. With armour on, this would’ve been an impossible thing to get back up from soon enough to avoid further harm, but Stephen is only wearing a light tunic. Everett isn’t so lucky, though Stephen doesn’t feel very blessed himself when the man’s fist connects with his cheekbone. Using a blast of Power, he only feels slightly remorseful to see Everett flying up in the air. He slides back a few feet from the force, feeling his cloak go off halfway as it scrapes over the small stones.

He can feel the presence of more Minds joining as they come to watch his Test - Tony’s is amongst them, shining like a beacon in familiarity. Slowing Time, he turns his head to watch the prince. He stands further away with a few of his Knights, his dark eyes large as they rest on Stephen. Suspended in time, it almost seems like he’s not breathing, and Stephen wishes he could hold in Time forever and just watch him.

He gives himself just a fragment of Time, though, catching his breath and sitting up before he feels the quiet rush of air as Time is restored to its natural speed. Everett doesn’t land, but is caught by the Ancient One mid-air, and Stephen takes a mere moment to appreciate that before he turns back to the brothers.

Another jolt of Power is enough to keep them back for a moment more and that’s all Stephen needs to scramble up. Underneath his gloves, he can feel the ground digging into his skin. He braces himself for the impact of the spell that Loki hurls at him, quick and agile as he spins his magic with whispered words and a lethal acuity. He has to break the enchanted shards with pure force, purple shimmering in the air before Loki’s magic collapses in on itself. He must look like a madman; one hand stretched out, purple simmering between his fingertips, and one still in the gravelly sand, steadying himself as he only barely manages not to fall over under the strain of undoing Loki’s attacks.

Thor takes the opportunity to tackle him, much like Everett did, only Thor makes sure he doesn’t go down with him. Stephen wheezes as the air escapes his lungs rather forcibly, but at least Loki’s magic goes right over his hand. He doesn’t relish finding out how much those magic shards would hurt if they made contact with his skin.

Brushing his Mind against Thor’s, he’s able to see the punch coming just before it does. Maybe Thor is something of a sorcerer himself, if only for the tiniest bit, because Stephen would swear that the ground roars with Power as the prince’s fist impacts just next to his ear. 

Stephen, seeing his chance, throws Power at Thor when he sits there, having just missed his target. He rolls away a few feet, seemingly not much perturbed. His blond hair is a mess, but when he looks up, his eyes are clearer than ever, the thunder and lightning in his grin only asking for more.

Stephen is outnumbered and still lying on the ground, never having truly gotten away from there in the first place. He closes his eyes, feeling Thor and Loki on two different sides, both ready to finish this.

With one smooth movement of his arm, he forces Power to not come directly from him, but from below. As Thor gets to his feet, the ground is now actually rumbling. Stephen can feel the faint confusion before tiny pieces of stone and humps of grass explode right behind Thor, burying him in an avalanche of Stephen’s making. The Asgardian struggles and falls back, and Stephen finishes by sending another jolt of Power, making sure he’s firmly stuck into the hole and covered with dirt.

With Thor sufficiently captured for the moment, though Stephen is not as delusional as to think it will hold him forever, he turns to Loki.

The sorcerer smirks. Like Thor, it’s a captivating expression - but unlike Thor, Loki is like a predator, and the fight more than a game. Stephen wanted to take him down first, but perhaps it’s no surprise that they’re the last ones standing. Stephen’s clothes and cloak are smudged with dirt; his chest heaving with using so much Power and having to focus it so diligently. Loki seems like he’s barely started the fight in the first place.

‘’Impressive,’’ Loki says, inclining his head towards where Thor is trapped though his eyes never leave Stephen’s. ‘’It’s no _seidr_ , of course. But your understanding of strength is skillful, even if its source is messy.’’

Stephen takes a cautious step, feeling himself shift into a fighting position. Loki just eyes him, not giving away anything, all slender poise. Something in him reminds Stephen of Mordo and Obadiah and Killian - the contrived hint of a smile, the placid intangibility of his thoughts, the hidden nature of his presence. He has a sharp mind, prince Loki, and there’s something even sharper underneath that has nothing to do with rationale and all with sentiment. Stephen can taste it like blood on his tongue, and he eyes the sorcerer.

‘’I will not be held up,’’ he says, his heart hammering. Thor is struggling to get free and every second is one in which he’s closer to succeeding. 

‘’Then don’t be,’’ Loki says, and then he’s next to him. Stephen’s saved by mere instinct, slowing Time as he jumps away. If he hadn’t, the power of Loki’s next spell would have had him fall down on his face. It only rushes past him barely, but at least he’s still standing. Stephen uses Reality and the Loki that was just talking to him fades away.

There is no saying what Loki can and cannot use. His use of Reality seems impeccable, to create such a convincing clone - and without Stephen noticing. He grimaces and spreads out a wave of Reality, but Loki grins and takes a step back before he disappears due to Stephen’s spell.

Dozens of Lokis are around him, all of a sudden, and Stephen’s use of Reality isn’t enough to ward off Loki’s aptitude. None of the sorcerers are attacking, though that’s more of a diversion than anything else. Stephen whirls around, trying to look for a sign of which Loki is the real one.

The Asgardian must be waiting for Thor to rejoin the fight. Facing Loki alone, Stephen still has a decent though ever-diminishing chance to win. If Thor returns, that opportunity is all but gone.

With a hoarse shout, he summons all the Power he can and just aims it around him. The Lokis shimmer out of existence, only one remaining, pushed back to the ground. Stephen risks a glance into Thor’s direction - the man is barely injured, and seems keen to rejoin the fight. Unlike Everett, the Ancient One isn’t holding him back.

He doesn’t have time to linger on it as Loki uses his shards again. In a reflex, Stephen throws up a portal before him - and a little further back, so that the shards almost hit Loki. The Asgardian sorcerer glowers at him, so Stephen throws the portal over him. Loki disappears, only falling out of the air a few feet away. The sorcerer catches himself, however, and at least he doesn’t look so unperturbed anymore.

Removing Loki from the immediate proximity doesn’t correspond with removing Loki from the equation altogether, however. Thor wrenches himself loose, and at least the brothers are advancing from the same general area. There is no Aspect that will save this fight for him - no Time that won’t catch up, no Space that will remove his adversaries, no Mind that will inform him of their moves, or Reality that will warp the truth into lies.

But this isn’t a Test for any of those Aspects. There’s only one Aspect that will knock down enemies, should you Master it - only one that commands the basic truth of strength over strength.

Stephen exhales, and then pushes.

Power creates a path in destruction - paves the way as it finds its victims, and the Asgardian brothers are only uninjured because Loki grabs his brother by the shoulder and whisks them away. Stephen imagines his memory of blue to fall before his eyes, mingling with purple, but the fact remains that it’s not what he sees. He sees nothing at all, because his veins are on fire and his eyes are pressed shut. Power is pressing on his body as it takes its force from him - it’s only as good as he is. 

Silence falls, and Stephen would think people are whispering except that the beat of his own heart sounds both very loud and very distant, and he feels a cold hand on his arm.

‘’Stephen,’’ Tony says, and it’s only because of Mind that he knows. He can feel the worry radiating off the prince, and Stephen forces his eyes open. Tony is staring at him, one hand on his bare arm and the other, the one he didn’t feel press against him, on his shoulder. 

‘’Sorry,’’ he mutters, and allows Tony to help him up. His legs feel like jelly, and the cold of winter sends spikes of discomfort through his skin. 

‘’Master Strange?’’ The Ancient One looks oddly fascinated, kneeling before him as she presses a hand against his forehead. ‘’You’ve done very well.’’

‘’Shouldn’t you back off?’’ Tony snaps, and Stephen frowns in response. 

‘’Tony -’’

‘’No,’’ Tony says, and now his worried fury is aimed at Stephen. ‘’She’s forcing you to do this. Last time you Mastered an Aspect, you were hurt. And my dad wants you to know Power, that’s all fine and dandy, because it turns out I have nothing to say about anything anymore, but I’m not going to pretend that this is, in any way or shape, okay. And now you’ve Mastered another one, and she gets what she wanted, and now she can _go_.’’

‘’He didn’t Master it,’’ the Ancient One says, and through Stephen’s building headache, he realizes she’s right. There’s a certain sensation that he’s come to recognize with Mastering Aspects - and while he’s exhausted now, this wasn’t it. He looks towards the damage he’s done - half the courtyard undone, stones and grass ripped out of the ground.

And yet, he hasn’t Mastered it. ‘’I’m not sure what I did wrong,’’ he murmurs, and he feels Tony run a comforting finger over his arm. After their conversation, he doesn’t have the heart to stop him while a crowd is gathering around them. Tony won’t care, and Stephen doesn’t have the energy to have more of a reason.

‘’I can see when I’m not wanted,’’ the Ancient One says conversationally. ‘’Master Strange, I will see you again soon. I have my theories, and I’m sure you have yours. My prince - with your leave.’’

Tony doesn’t even deign that with a reply as he turns a concerned look towards Stephen, ignoring the Ancient One’s retreat. ‘’You didn’t Master it? But - what you did -’’

‘’I know,’’ Stephen says quietly, but straightens up when the fighters approach him.

‘’Very impressive,’’ Everett Ross says amicably. ‘’I’m quite glad I wasn’t there for the whole fight, seeing what you managed to do.’’

Thor roars out a laugh. His eye is on the verge of turning a vicious kind of black, already swelling, though Stephen is starting to think the man would hardly be perturbed by a broken limb. ‘’I _am_ glad I was there for the whole fight!’’ he echoes. ‘’An admirable opponent and a thrilling fight! Thank you for the opportunity, Master Strange. Perhaps we can - do a more friendly spar, in the future.’’

‘’I doubt there’s any friendly spars left in the near future,’’ Stephen says, but he offers the prince a smile nonetheless. ‘’You are a fierce warrior, prince Thor. As are you, prince Loki.’’

Loki shrugs. ‘’You’re not as bad, Master Strange. Your creative use of magic is commendable. Then again, as I understand it, you are more at liberty to use diverse spells. Or Aspects, as you call them. That will be a huge advantage on the battlefield.’’

‘’Don’t estimate me too highly,’’ Stephen says, feeling every ache in his body protests the lavish words coming from the princes. ‘’I haven’t Mastered Power, despite all this.’’

‘’Your obsession with Mastering is disturbing,’’ Loki notes half-heartedly, as if he knows it’s a lost cause. ‘’If you’ve done this, what need do you have for more? Losing colours is nothing to celebrate, Master Strange. All in all, I think you’ve achieved what you need to achieve. Congratulations.’’

He walks away without awaiting an answer, and Thor just follows him with an apologetic grin towards Stephen and Tony. Only Ross remains standing there, not quite prepared to be left in the company of the prince and a high-ranking sorcerer. He just frowns, and Stephen tries not to smile as he senses the vague discomfort coming from the guard.

Tony lays a hand on Ross’ shoulder. ‘’You should practice with the Knights of Virtue,’’ he says kindly. ‘’You fought well and smart, I think. Knight Rhodes is over there - just tell him I sent you. He’ll be happy to get you settled.’’

Everett Ross stares at him for a while before he inclines his head. ‘’Thank you, my prince,’’ he mutters, and walks towards where the other Knights have begun sparring again. It’s only Tony and Stephen left to stare at the ravage that he has made of the courtyard - Stephen winces, remembering the ache and absolution of Power.

‘’I’m truly fine,’’ Stephen says, sensing Tony’s eyes on him. ‘’Bruises and scrapes are nothing.’’

‘’Why didn’t you Master it?’’ Tony demands. His armour is still glimmering, and his new crown reminds Stephen of that day he’d first seen Tony in the forgery. Tony had told him that he didn’t need a guard, and Stephen had decided to stick beside him nonetheless. What if he’d listened to all of Tony’s protests? If he’d declined to stay in the Palace?

What if he’d never fallen in love with the crown prince of Veston, this impossibly stubborn smith in the vessel of a prince that would rather deny every woman in the kingdom than settle for anything less than happiness? This clever young man with unequaled charms, who’d been so reluctant to let him help with his nightmares? The motherless craftsman who’d rather place his own life in danger than let his father decide his future?

Stephen can’t imagine a world in which he’d walked away. And looking at Tony now, he can’t imagine a future where he will ever want to walk away again.

‘’I don’t know,’’ he lies, and watches a world in which only purple and orange remain.

~*~

‘’Menteri has not played by the rules so far,’’ Rhodey argues, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. The war council has shrunk in number, this time - he is there, but Romanoff, Barton and Rogers are all off to Skoltia. Other members of Howard’s council are making sure that Ireningas is to remain safe and providing homes for all those of nearby villages that might be attacked. Food is being stocked and saved, horses are being readied, swords sharpened.

Two more days until they march. Tony has a hard time remaining impassively seated.

‘’That doesn’t mean they won’t escape our attack,’’ one of the councilmen drawls. 

Howard huffs. ‘’We will meet them on our terms,’’ he says. ‘’They have stayed in their holes all this time, and we’ll meet them head-on. Where are they, if not in Menteri?’’

‘’Our sorcerers cannot find them,’’ the Ancient One says, and Tony wonders if she’s concerned in any way. Her gaze finds his and he frowns before she turns away again. Stephen, seated beside him, finds his hand for a moment and pinches him in a comforting manner.

‘’They cannot escape our army forever,’’ Howard states.

‘’No, but they can make our soldiers weary and uncertain,’’ Tony points out, leaning forward. ‘’How did we lose an entire army from sight?’’

‘’They are hidden.’’ Stephen hasn’t said anything else yet, during the meeting, and all eyes go to him. He sits rigidly, and his pale gaze is only focused on the Sorcerer Supreme. Something wordless passes in that exchange of looks - Tony is only aware that it’s happening, but he’s not sure what it’s about. He wonders if Stephen is upset about Tony’s words to his mentor after his Test, though he hadn’t said anything about it.

‘’Yes,’’ the Ancient One mutters and sighs. ‘’There is a sorcerer with the Menteri, I suspect. A powerful one that has been bothering more people than just us. He might also be behind the hindrances to Asgard, to make sure they don’t get involved in a war by having them protect their own borders first. The only reason prince Thor and Loki are here is because of Frigga’s understanding and their own zest for battle. He is planning something - and I believe he might be hiding Menteri’s army.’’

‘’A surprise attack,’’ Tony says, and looks towards Stephen. ‘’How long have you known about this sorcerer?’’

‘’The Mantri is Aldrich Killian,’’ the Ancient One continues. ‘’Except we do know there’s a figurehead that also disappeared - one that Thor and Loki failed to find before they stumbled upon prince Anthony. Killian is from Veston, capital-born. How did a foreigner become Mantri when there is one already in place?’’

‘’Mind,’’ Stephen murmurs, and when he leans forward and pinches his own nose, he seems endlessly weary. ‘’You think Kaecilius infiltrated Menteri and put Killian in power by making the actual Mantri susceptible to his whispers. If he’s hiding the Menteri army, none of our plans will work.’’

‘’Unless we deal with Kaecilius before that time,’’ she says.

‘’And we can’t,’’ Stephen says, before anyone can even pose the question. A pained look is on his face, so uncharacteristic of the stoic sorcerer. 

‘’Why?’’ Howard demands, rising as he rests his hands on the table, leaning forward in a sudden fit. ‘’The plan, all this time, has been to march to Menteri and meet their forces, wipe them off the edge of the world. And now suddenly we cannot find the Menteri? Their country is where it has always been!’’

‘’But not their army,’’ Stephen says, a heated edge to his voice. ‘’Menteri isn’t waiting for us to attack, my King. They know we are coming - and we don’t know where they are, do we? Menteri may be where it’s always been, but its soldiers have gone.’’

‘’The plan won’t change,’’ Howard decides, and Tony keeps very still when his father’s eyes land on him. It’s almost as if he suspects Tony to side with Stephen, all of a sudden, despite their arduous planning of the whole event. Tony isn’t sure what the best way to proceed is - to be honest, neither option is ideal.

‘’We still have to attack,’’ he says when the room falls silent. ‘’War is coming whether we want to or not - we cannot wait here for Menteri to do things on their own terms. This way, we can lure them out. Their soldiers are gone, but their citizens are still at home. Menteri will have to protect their own.’’

‘’You want to wage war on civilians?’’ Stephen asks coldly. There is a difference in the way he talks when he’s upset, Tony knows - it’s in the lowering of his tone, the clipping of his vowels, the emphasis on his nouns. He’s heard it, sometimes, but never directed at him. It cuts like a blade to hear Stephen talk that way to him, even if the sorcerer isn’t even aware of it.

‘’Of course I don’t,’’ he says quietly, more privately than he intended to do in a war council. ‘’But what would you have us do, Master Strange? We do not know where our opponent is, and we can’t sit here to wait for battle, which will destroy our land in the process. The threat might be enough to drive their army to us, and we can do this the right way.’’

‘’We will stick to our plans,’’ Howard intervenes. ‘’What happens to Menteri’s citizens is not of our concern. They have an army to protect them, and it’s not our fault if they’re not there. Two days. Then we march.’’

With that, everyone rises. Stephen is the first to go, storming past Tony before he can stop him. Howard follows curtly, always away to deal with business these days. The remaining council members are quick to follow, never fully at rest with the Sorcerer Supreme in the room.

Tony stops beside her before she can leave. There is no surprise in her eyes, and somehow that is a comfort. A sign that she might still know what is going on.

‘’We need to have a talk,’’ he says curtly, and she inclines her head to him.

‘’So talk, my prince,’’ she says, some amusement glittering her eyes. 

‘’If we are to march to Menteri, no civilians are to be harmed. I don’t want war - I tried to avoid it by finding the Mantri, but we all know how that turned out. This is a pointless venture, like most battles. I’ll fight, but the sorcerers must protect every civilian. No matter on what side.’’

‘’Your father will disagree,’’ she murmurs.

Tony feels his heart hammering in his chest. ‘’I don’t care. You’re the Sorcerer Supreme - the sorcerers will listen to you over him.’’

‘’You’re asking me to commit treason.’’

‘’No. I’m asking you to help _me_ commit treason.’’

The Ancient One smiles. ‘’Still a severe crime, my prince. One that neither of us will escape the consequences of. Are you quite sure?’’

‘’Absolutely,’’ he confirms. 

‘’Even if it means the fall of Veston?’’

It’s her demeanour rather than her tone that gives away the severity of her question. She says it lightly, like a breeze passing over a leaf and tugging it away for a second, but the intent is far more meaningful.

He sits beside her, folding his hands as he tries to find the words. He’s not as eloquent as Stephen - he’s a smith by nature, and a prince by training. He inhales, and doesn’t stop feeling her eyes on his face.

‘’Asking you to save them isn’t because I’m such a good person,’’ he starts. ‘’It’s not because I’m a merciful prince. They are - they’ve never done anything. They’re innocent in every meaning of the word, and I won’t have them dead simply because their army wants to outsmart us. I’m not - I’d save every one of them, if I could. Everyone who’s going to die for this, everyone who already _has_. But I can’t. All I can do is this - ask this of someone who _can_ do something about it.’’

‘’It doesn’t answer the question,’’ she says.

He shrugs. ‘’If Veston falls because of something like this - well, then I’m not sure that doing it will help save us anyhow. I’ll go out and meet their soldiers, because somehow it’s come to this, but I’m - _we’re_ more than blood and war.’’

She rises quite unexpectedly, her orange drapes catching the sunlight. Her expression isn’t unkind, but there is something like mercy in the way she lies a hand on top of his shoulder for a moment before it’s gone again.

‘’When you are a prince,’’ she says, ‘’choosing what you have chosen is mercy, all the same. You will make a fine king, someday, Anthony Stark. Regardless of how the battle will turn out.’’

‘’I’ll have to make it out alive for that,’’ Tony murmurs dryly. Somehow, he doubts this battle will be kind on their numbers. Two days until they march - and he doesn’t know what will come after.

She stands in the door opening for a moment longer. ‘’I’ll make sure of that,’’ she says, and disappears, leaving Tony alone.


	17. Purple / IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that at this point, if I say I'm going to be updating soon, you should just hit me over the head and tell me to stop lying.

It’s Pepper that finds him, in the end. Stephen isn’t used to being searched for, especially by the Treasurer - if anyone wants his time, it’s the war council. He is here to win a war and spill their enemy’s blood, and once upon a time, he thinks, he would’ve rejoiced in his prince’s cunning decision to increase their chances of winning a war. 

Now he sits in his chambers, lights off and playing around with a fire made of purple in his hands. _If you don’t feel in control, you’ll never Master it_. Little question remains as to why he can still see purple - he hasn’t been in control ever since Tony was whisked away to Menteri. His somewhat-safe return doesn’t put anything back the way it was.

The Treasurer stands in his door opening, her face reluctant as she watches him. A streak of light from the hallway falls into his room, and the purple seems to fade and lose some of its incandescence. 

‘’Master Strange,’’ she says, and Stephen closes his palm. The flame disappears in his gloves, a slightly smoldering sensation left where he normally only feels the clamminess of his hand. 

‘’Can I help you?’’ he asks coldly. His vexation with Tony - and with himself - is consuming enough for him to lose his neutral composure, a mask he’s had since he was a child. Pepper, however, is a braver woman than most, stepping forward towards an infuriated sorcerer.

‘’He needs you there,’’ she says eventually. She’s more composed than he is, but there is the hint of desperation in the furrowing of her eyebrows, the tense way that her shoulders have straightened. ‘’He’s just - sitting there, murmuring to himself.’’

There remains no question as to who she means. Stephen shifts on his seat, moving further away from her. She must know what it means - he’s equally aware of how much he is giving away, but why not? The court knows all there is to know - they whisper about it, and he’d thought himself above it all. Cleverer than the nobles, trickier than the other sorcerers.

‘’No.’’

Her voice is sharper, this time. ‘’I know what he said. I know why you disagree, Master Strange, believe me - this isn’t the way I wanted us to go. But you know Tony as well as I do, I think, because you’re the same kind of person at the end of the day. Tony doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He tried to avoid this war by seeking out the Mantri personally, because he doesn’t want his people to suffer. He doesn’t want other people to suffer, either, and he’ll do whatever he can. But sitting here, waiting for the enemy to come - that’ll end Veston. You know it will.’’

‘’We march in two days, Lady Potts,’’ he murmurs. ‘’You might want to take care of the final arrangements.’’

‘’You can still help him,’’ she says, and he hears her footsteps. She appears before him, the shadows of his room not dark enough to make him unaware of the pain on her face. ‘’He’s hurting. You know the thing he has on his chest - it’s magic, isn’t it? He refuses to show it to anyone, but he keeps touching it. I know you care about him. It’s hard not to, when you get to know him. And Tony - he’s always cared too much. I don’t think he knows that, but I do. And I think you do, too.’’

‘’If he did, then he wouldn’t have suggested to march to Menteri and hold their civilians hostage,’’ Stephen notes sharply.

Pepper bites her lip and looks away. She rises to her full height. ‘’You think Menteri will let us. You’re not that naive, Master Strange. Tony will need you, before the end. Before the start.’’

Stephen doesn’t know what to say - he doesn’t need to, as her footsteps fade away. His door falls shut behind her with a click, and with it, the light of the hallways leaves his chambers. The sudden darkness makes it hard to see, and Stephen holds out his own hand before him again.

The purple comes back as a stuttering fire, and then fails.

He thinks about Tony, and closes his eyes as the chair creaks underneath his body when he leans forward. He remembers the way that Tony held his slumped body, when he was on the battlefield. He knows how to kiss him, now, which parts of his body are ticklish and which aren’t. His sword, somewhere in the corner, hidden by the lack of light, that Tony gave him. 

If he wanted to or not, if he meant it or not - his life is intrinsically intertwined with Tony’s, now: the prince of Veston and the sorcerer of few remaining colours. If they went to war with this between them, Stephen would never be able to concentrate. And if he or Tony were to fall -

_Tony will need you_ , before the end. She might not have considered Stephen needs him equally so.

Making up his mind, he flicks his finger. A single purple flame comes into existence, small but certainly far more substantial than anything he’s been able to conjure up in the past few hours.

~*~

Any other day, Tony might have appreciated the thinly-veiled concern. As much as he adores Friday, and he’s grown to like May, the two women’s continued presence in his forge isn’t exactly what he was hoping for when he got here. He instructed them to stay away as the heat rushes out of the forge, putting some physical distance between them, but that doesn’t stop them from talking.

He hits the sword harder than he regularly would. The clanging sound rings in the forge, though it only breaks their conversation for a second.

‘’They’ll be safe, though, if they come here,’’ May says, almost a whisper. ‘’They shouldn’t stay in Brichley with the war coming. Some other nobles from the outer-regions have come to Ireningas already. Why haven’t they?’’

‘’They might not be in danger at all,’’ Friday says reasonably, and Tony hits the metal again. This sword won’t be a masterwork, with how callously he is treating it - but he just wishes he could drone out their concerns, only adding to his own. They’re not leaving, though, for whatever reason.

‘’But no one knows where the Menteri army has gone,’’ May notes.

Friday makes a humming noise, drowned out by another clang. ‘’The Parkers will be fine. The King has taken measures to protect our people, even beyond the capital.’’

Sure, but not that many. Perhaps Tony shouldn’t say that, however, since May is already worried enough.

‘’Why are you so concerned?’’ he asks, turning towards her and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Most of it ends up in his hair, but he’ll take a bath later today. It might help him more to relax than his attempt at creating will, at this point. He glances at the half-formed metal next to him, and abandons the project. 

May turns red with his eyes upon her. ‘’They’re my family,’’ she says quietly. ‘’I don’t want them to be hurt.’’

Many maids grow close to the family they serve, especially in a close-knit community such as they have in Brichley. But May’s tone - her fondness extends beyond that which he usually sees, her eyes soft and her concern fraying her nerves. 

Friday shakes her head at him, one small movement telling him to quit the subject. And she’s never been anything but a good friend to him, so Tony steps away and leans against the wall, watching away from the women.

‘’I’m sure they’ll be fine,’’ he says, trying to sound more confident than he is. ‘’The Menteri aren’t interested in small settlements or random nobles. Their intentions are far bigger.’’

And if Ireningas falls, the rest of Veston will follow, so there would be no reason to focus on other cities. If only Tony actually had faith in their plans, but ever since they lost the Menteri, he’s been sure they’re up to something they haven’t seen yet. Not even the sorcerers have been able to solve it, and Tony is tired.

His hand moves to the Arc as his chest hurts, but whatever May or Friday plan on saying next is interrupted by a knock at the door. Stephen doesn’t wait for an answer to open, and for a second, Tony is relieved to see him - pale, uncertain, but here. 

‘’Master Strange,’’ Friday says, standing up straighter. ‘’We’ll give you a minute.’’

She disappears, tugging May with her. The brown-haired maid winces and waves at him before she turns around the corner, her footsteps fading from earshot with every passing second.

Tony doesn’t move, except to let his hand drop. He’s aware that he isn’t looking all too well; even without Obadiah to poison him, he’s been having nightmares. Stephen would know, considering they’ve shared a bed more than once by now. The sweat is still clinging to his hair, matting it against his forehead, and his clothes are old and frayed.

Stephen, despite the lack of colour in his cheeks, seems as royal as ever. His cloak swirls behind him, a deep red threaded with green, despite the fact that Stephen is Master of more than just Time by now. 

‘’I’ve taken precautions,’’ Tony says, when Stephen doesn’t stop staring at him. ‘’I know you don’t approve of what’s going to happen. I don’t, and it was my plan - but I’ve - you know I won’t let anyone just kill innocent people, right? But it’s - well, obviously, but you’re - why aren’t you saying anything?’’

‘’What precautions?’’ Stephen asks carefully, and Tony once thought that the sorcerer never shows anything on his face. It’s true, because it’s all in other signs - the twitch in his fingers, the subtle shift of his weight, the tension in his shoulders. 

Tony is suddenly struck by the realization that he is one of the few people in this world who know Stephen this intimately. Perhaps the only one. He remembers Mordo, for a second, but that - by all accounts, that was years ago, and Mordo hasn’t been seen ever since he deserted his spot. And he believes - _wants_ to believe, mostly - that Stephen hasn’t ever looked so soft-heartedly, so painfully _desperately_ at another being.

‘’I wouldn’t want to make you part of the rebellion,’’ Tony says, only half-jokingly. ‘’But I promise. I always meant to. But I’m not King.’’

Stephen takes a step closer. ‘’I think,’’ he says dryly, ‘’all things considered, they might suspect me anyway. I can tell you’re not lying.’’

‘’Mind?’’ Tony asks.

Stephen’s lips tilt. ‘’Because I know you better than that,’’ he says instead. ‘’Are you hurt? This heat might not be good for you.’’

The forge is still in the process of cooling off, and the room isn’t that large. The heat still lingers, and Tony shrugs. His arms are bare and his clothes are sticking to him - he feels more like himself than he has in a while, in the forge, even though he still feels so removed from reality.

‘’It’s one of the last times I might be here,’’ he says instead, and rests his fingers on the working bench. His failure of a sword is cooling a few inches away.

Stephen shifts again, and before Tony is even aware of it, he stands in front of him. Stephen’s hands run over his arms, as if he’s holding something fragile, and then he kisses him. Tony kisses back more fervently, pressing the sorcerer against the wall.

‘’Don’t fight,’’ Stephen gasps, his hands resting on Tony’s lower back. ‘’Don’t go to war.’’

Tony tugs Stephen down for another bruising kiss. When they break apart, Tony takes in a shuddering breath. ‘’You can’t protect me forever, Stephen,’’ he says, and wants to go in for another kiss. Stephen holds him back, however, his eyes steely in the firelight. 

‘’What if something were to happen to you?’’ he insists, and he keeps Tony pressed against him. He can feel the distracting lines of Stephen’s body, the warmth of his breath on top of his body, the way his fingers clutch at him through gloves.

‘’How can I ask others to protect my own kingdom for me?’’ Tony says. ‘’How can I let my father go to war, old as he is, and stay in Ireningas? These are my people, and this is my world.’’

‘’If something happens to you, there’s no one left to inherit the throne.’’

Tony, any other day, might have pushed Stephen away. He knows him a bit better now, however - knows the badly-concealed distress in his voice comes from more than concern about the throne.

‘’Liar,’’ he murmurs, placing a soft kiss against Stephen’s neck.

Stephen stills, and his hands move up to hold Tony by his shoulders. ‘’If something happens to you, I don’t know what I’d do.’’

‘’It won’t happen,’’ Tony insists. ‘’And even if it did - that’s my place. You can’t keep me here forever.’’

‘’I can,’’ Stephen says, and there’s a hard edge to his voice. The insistence doesn’t come from a rational place, and Tony feels his fingers tighten on his skin. It’s an icy grip, unrelenting; Tony can feel the bruises forming already, underneath the leather of Stephen’s gloved fingertips.

‘’No.’’

‘’I could keep you here, if I wanted. I’ve Mastered so many Aspects - I could stop Time around you, or change Reality. I can infiltrate your Mind and keep you safe.’’

There’s a manic glint in Stephen’s eyes, and Tony pushes him away, this time. This isn’t his kind Stephen, with feather-light touches and pliant kisses and tall limbs entangling with his own. This is a war-driven desperation that Tony hadn’t quite realized Stephen could sink to - not his sorcerer, calm and rational and composed. So ethereal, and more than ever, so human. 

‘’And it wouldn’t be me standing here anymore, would it? And doing that would make you someone else, too. You once asked me what kind of king I would be, Stephen, and if I would care. I am here, and I care. I will be the kind of king that doesn’t abandon his people - and the kind of man that _doesn’t abandon the ones he loves_.’’

Tony falls silent, so many words getting stuck in his throat. Stephen looks struck, which is when Tony realizes he’d shouted. His fingers go back to the Arc, automatically, and he sees Stephen’s eyes follow the movement. The blue light shines through the gaps between his fingers, and Tony takes a deep breath and lets himself sit on the floor, steadying himself by keeping a hand against the wall.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ Stephen’s voice says, and Stephen’s face is suddenly very close. His hand is on Tony’s shoulder, and his other on his hip, keeping him upright as he hunches over the cold floor, suddenly feeling sick. ‘’I know. I know. I’d never do that to you, Tony. I’m sorry. I don’t know what - no, that’s a poor excuse. The mere thought of losing you makes me mad.’’

‘’You’ll be there too,’’ Tony says, trying not to tremble as he rests his forehead against Stephen’s chest. ‘’I need to protect you, too. It’s not - Stephen, I’m not - this isn’t. You have to come back with me.’’

‘’I know,’’ Stephen says, and his fingers tighten. This time, it’s not dangerous or overprotective - this time, it feels like a promise. He presses Tony against him, and he goes willingly.

‘’You know what I keep thinking about?’’ Tony mutters. ‘’That first time you came to help me with my nightmares, and I’d asked you about yours. You know, you’d eaten some of my dinner back then - so you’d been poisoned, too. That’s probably why you had a bad dream to begin with. Anyway, you told me about your sister. Donna. And about Dosham.’’

Stephen is silent for a moment. ‘’You said I should go back, when everything was over. You said you’d come with me.’’

‘’And I will,’’ Tony promises, his heart beating loudly in his chest. ‘’We’ll go see it together. I won’t let you go, after this. Not even if my father disinherits me for it. I don’t care.’’

It takes only a moment for Stephen to loosen his hold, but after only a fracture of a second, he presses closer again, as if he’s indecisive. Tony knows what he wants to say, and apparently, Stephen is aware that Tony knows, because he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he wants it so badly that he won’t protest, just like Tony does.

Except when push comes to shove, Stephen is far better at sacrificing, Tony has learnt. And he’s promising only fairy tales. But when they both will fight a war in a day -

Well. Fairy tales and promises that won’t be kept are what keeps them going, aren’t they?

~*~

The courtyard is empty, now. There is still a gap in the grass from Stephen’s Test, as no one had quite had the time to deal with gardening problems on the edge of war. Stephen brushes his fingers, gloveless this time, over Tony’s wrist and then takes his hand. He no longer cares about what might happen - he’s lost the energy to. Whatever will come to pass, will pass.

It seems that there’s some strength in that mindset. Stephen feels clearer, more relaxed, something having settled in him the moment Tony had leant his head against Stephen’s chest. 

‘’Everyone is done training,’’ Tony says in the sunset. ‘’Tomorrow, we go to war.’’

‘’Tomorrow, we go to war,’’ Stephen echoes, and doesn’t mind the way that Tony tightens his hold. 

They stand there for a while. They should sleep, perhaps, get their rest for the coming day. There is no saying what will come, tomorrow, after the long march to who-knows-where. They need to find the Menteri before defeating them, and Stephen isn’t sure which one will be the harder task. With everything that has happened, he feels like they’re constantly five steps behind.

He feels a tug of Mind as another person draws near. ‘’Prince Thor,’’ he says before the Asgardian has even announced himself.

A laugh, quieter than he’s used to from the prince, finds them as Thor comes to stand beside him. He looks mightily imposing in his heavy armour, a hammer twice the size of Stephen’s hands hanging from his belt. Like this, he seems a true warrior of old, and Stephen is immensely happy to have his assistance.

‘’I came to find you before we march,’’ the man says, and it doesn’t escape Stephen’s notice that he doesn’t specify which one of them he means. ‘’It will be a glorious battle. I am truly glad to have ended up in Veston.’’

‘’So am I,’’ Tony says, a small smile playing on his lips.

‘’Our mother sent us to find the Mantri,’’ Thor says. ‘’I’d like to find him anyway and show him how Asgardians deal with underhanded traitors. I will ride with you, Tony. As a prince, and as a friend.’’

Tony nods sagely and breaks from Stephen to clasp Thor’s offered hand. Stephen follows, uncertain if he’d be considered a warrior by Asgard’s standards, but still glad to have it extended to him. 

‘’We’ll see you at dawn, Thor,’’ Tony says. Thor inclines his head and leaves again, the silence of the nearing night once again falling over them. 

Stephen leans against Tony again. ‘’He’s a good friend to have. It might even mark a difference between Asgard and Veston’s relationship, in the future.’’

Tony hums. ‘’That’s for another day. I know one man doesn’t win or lose a war, but I’m glad he’s on our side. We’ve got enough going against us already.’’

‘’Well, we have an entire army,’’ Stephen says. ‘’As well as the sorcerers. And, all things considered, I think the princes of Asgard were always meant to be here. I think the Ancient One and Queen Frigga had thought of it long before any of us were even aware of it.’’

It seems obvious to him now, and he’s not even sure when the realization had sunk in. The Ancient One had known all along, and she’d let the bad things happen because she believes this war will end in their favour. She’s playing with the future, with Time, and she’s doing it masterfully. Frigga is doing the same thing, in all likelihood, and Stephen doubts Thor and Loki’s presence at the exact spot Tony and the Knights had been stranded was an accident.

‘’They were sent to find the Mantri,’’ Tony says, frowning. ‘’They weren’t ordered to come help Veston.’’

‘’A Mantri that never existed,’’ Stephen says quietly. ‘’I think the princes were sent to find you and save you from the desert, Tony. How else would they have been in exactly the right place, at the right time? It’s no mere coincidence. Our victory is being shaped by magic, whether you like it or not. It’s what will win this fight.’’

Part of him expects Tony to rebel at that last statement - to angrily exclaim something about their Knights, about his own skills with a sword, about his father leading them into battle. Instead, he just slumps, and Stephen remembers Tony isn’t the exact same person he was when they met. Not as stubborn, and his world view extending far beyond Ireningas.

‘’She saved my life, then,’’ Tony murmurs. ‘’I’m really not sure what to make of her, anymore.’’

‘’The Ancient One?’’ Stephen asks, and presses a fleeting kiss to Tony’s hair. ‘’I’ve known her for most of my life, Tony, and I’m not sure I do, either. Come on, we should rest. At dawn, we will leave for war. And who knows for how long we might be walking until we get to fight?’’

Tony lets out a huff of amusement at that, and Stephen calls it a win. No more war councils, this close to the start - not for him or Tony, at least. He doesn’t doubt that the Ancient One and Howard are still talking, and will be until dawn comes.

He wonders about everyone else in the castle, as Tony leads the way back to the royal wing. About Pepper and the concern in her eyes, as she’d walked around the hallways. Rhodey, and the dark shadows he carries with him everywhere. Thor, Loki - assisting in a war not their own. Wong, sitting with the other sorcerers and talking about the uses of Power in war. May and Friday, two maids who will have to watch everyone else march away not knowing if they’ll be back. Even Obadiah, still alive in the dark cells, awaiting a trial for his crimes that he won’t live through.

And outside the Palace - Mordo, who has walked away and not turned back. Frigga, who sent two sons away for their cause. Donna and his parents, who might still be in Dosham, waiting and unknowing. Natasha, Barton, and Steve Rogers, who’d gone to Skida to be part of King Nicholas’ war council. 

He still thinks about it as he tucks in next to Tony and watches him fall asleep. 

~*~

When he wakes again, Tony’s feet are warm against Stephen’s calves. The darkness grates on him, all of a sudden, though he doesn’t dare hope for dawn. It must still be a couple of hours away, and he sits up, suddenly far more awake than he’d been only seconds ago.

Blinking slowly, he holds up his palm and summons Power. The flame of it will create a purplish light, and he’ll see Tony -

He does see Tony, his expression blank in dreams. The flame isn’t purplish as much as it shines a pure white, however, casting the rest of the room in varying degrees of grey.

Stephen just stares at it, uncomprehending for a moment. He closes his palm, feeling the sizzling feeling of fire against his hand, and opens it again. The same colourless flame comes to life, and he understands.

His Test hadn’t been to destroy a courtyard or win a fight. Stephen’s powerlessness came from his fear, and he’d managed to let go of his desperation. And now, he’d gained Power. He must have had it for hours, now, and he had never realized.

One more colour. Orange is all he has left, and all he will ever have. 

‘’Stephen.’’

He thinks it comes from Tony, but a quick look to his left makes it clear that the prince is still deeply asleep. Stephen frowns as he regards him more carefully - Tony is a fitful sleeper at the best of times, always slinging his limbs everywhere. And now, he is barely breathing.

He _isn’t_ breathing. 

Stephen’s heart stops for a moment, but then he feels something. It’s so natural to him that he had barely noticed, but when he does, it’s all he can feel. The energy crackles with Time, and he can feel the evenness of it. It feels like being in the middle of an ocean, seeing a wave coming at you, and seeing it stop mid-movement. Time stands still, and Stephen hadn’t done it.

Quickly, he kills the flame and swings his legs out of bed. It creaks underneath his movements, and he gets up swiftly before he can wake Tony up.

‘’Stephen.’’

The voice is barely more than a whisper, and Stephen opens the window. There is no balcony in Tony’s room, but the stones are uneven enough that a balanced man could hold onto them. Which is exactly what someone is doing.

It doesn’t seem to cause him any trouble. Instead, the man leans against the wall casually, almost uncaring that gravity demands he should fall down to the ground. His tunic is orange, though barely noticeable in the light of only the moon. The most unique thing are the cracked shadows around his eyes - they must be a thousand colours, none of which Stephen can see. They deepen his eyes and make him older and menacing.

‘’I have been waiting for this moment,’’ the man says, and the glittering orange beneath his eyes draws Stephen’s attention.

‘’You’re Kaecilius,’’ Stephen says. He couldn’t explain why he knows this - it’s just the air of the man, cold and haughty. A man who has nearly reached his goals. Perhaps it’s the callous use of the Mystic Arts, and the way he’d stopped Time for everyone but the two of them.

‘’Yes,’’ he confirms. ‘’And you are Stephen Strange. The Ancient One’s chosen champion. Or not chosen, perhaps - she would have spared you, I think. She has always been weak, in that regard.’’

Of all the things that Stephen has ever thought about the Ancient One, weak is not one of them. She is ruthless, at times, when she thinks it necessary. But weak? Never.

‘’Why are you here?’’ he asks. ‘’I can only assume this is your plan, the grand finale, finally set in motion. But why?’’

‘’Very good.’’ Kaecilius’ smile is all teeth, a predator congratulating his prey for realizing it is caught in a web. ‘’Veston has never been kind to me. I was born just over the border with Skida, you see. If my parents had only lived a few more inches to the north, things might have gone differently. I would have joined Skida’s sorcerers, and my ambitions might have panned out. Or, perhaps, I might have been invading Skida right now. Does it matter?’’

‘’You sought power no one can bear,’’ Stephen reprimands him, knowing it won’t do any good.

‘’That’s rich, coming from the man who has Mastered nearly all Aspects,’’ Kaecilius says sharply. ‘’You are a hypocrite, just like her. If the King had seen my potential, if he would’ve named me the Sorcerer Supreme, Veston would have been indestructible. Instead, Menteri offered me all my answers. From there on, how could I choose not to come back and show all of you what a mistake can cost?’’

‘’Vanity,’’ Stephen says. ‘’It won’t be useful to you, when all is done. We will win.’’

‘’As the Ancient One has seen it,’’ Kaecilius nods, almost emphatically. ‘’I’m sure she’s been making you figure it out in bits and pieces. The way she’s done everything to save Veston. The only thing she cares about is maintaining her own power, Strange, like she always has. Would you believe in your own victory, had she not told you? It’s not too late, you know. You are ambitious. I can teach you even more, if you’d like.’’

Stephen thinks about the white flame that should’ve been purple. He thinks about Tony, unaware of what’s happening, still lost in dreams as well as the ceasing of Time. He thinks about the pits of light he can see in the distance, the numerous tiny flames carried on torches, the light unnaturally motionless.

The Menteri have come before they could even come for them. This war will be on their terms, and looking at Kaecilius, Stephen isn’t surprised. He has the same air of unpretentious certainty around him, the same authority in the lines of his face that Stephen knows from the Ancient One. In another world, he might’ve followed this man for the same reasons he is following her.

He thinks of that moment under a seven-coloured tinted glass, the emotionless tone of her voice when she’d told him he’d lose more colours. Only now, he knows what she meant. The loss and the emptiness, and the realization he may have given up something valuable for a power he never wanted. Knowledge he never needed.

Suddenly, he understands Clint Barton and his refusal to lose colours far more than the Knight will ever know.

‘’No.’’

Kaecilius regards him for a few moments - not unkindly, in fact, nor very surprised. ‘’I thought you’d say that. I’ve seen how this ends, Strange, and it will not be quick, nor painless. I won’t ask if you’re sure, but do be prepared. After tomorrow, you will have no one left to serve but yourself.’’

With that, Kaecilius flicks his fingers. A portal sizzles into existence behind him, and the sorcerer lets himself fall. As he does so, the thousand lights that were behind him suddenly start flickering as Time restarts.

The wind picks up, howling around Stephen, and he watches the army come from afar. A bell chimes, then another joins - within a minute, the entire Palace is alive with sound. Muted shouts are carried on the currents, but Stephen can only watch the flaming orange from afar.

‘’Stephen?’’

It’s Tony this time, huddled in one of his blankets. Stephen turns, finding Tony’s eyes blearily looking towards him. His face is filled with uncomprehending weariness, one hand clutching at the pillow Stephen had slept on.

‘’Get up,’’ Stephen says more calmly than he feels. ‘’The Menteri are here.’’


	18. Orange / I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's updating after a reasonable time for once? yes, that's me. no need for slapping!

Dawn breaks, pink and fragile and seemingly so far, far away. 

Tony feels the weight of his armour on his shoulders and his crown on top of his head. It’s not the one he made for himself - it’s a pure golden band, easy to spot in battle and yet plain enough to be insignificant in case he loses it.

Not that he’s in battle yet. Rhodey is tensed next to him, as they stand slightly apart from the others. They are in the throne room, and the sun’s tepid rise casts multi-coloured light on Stephen’s red cloak, as its rays come through the stained glass. The sorcerer stands in between his old teacher and Master Wong, all of them looking towards the King. 

‘’Little time is left,’’ Howard says tersely, his fingers tightened on his seat. His face is lined with age and his lips pressed white with fear. Like this, he is an old man indeed, and Tony wonders at the heaviness in his chest when he realizes it. Kings usually do not reach high ages. Not when there’s battles to be fought.

‘’The Menteri are knocking at our door,’’ the Ancient One agrees, and her eyes flick towards Tony. ‘’But they’ve raised up a shield around Ireningas. They cannot come in yet, but we cannot go out. We’re trapped.’’

‘’We must warn Nicholas,’’ the King says, leaning forward. ‘’Can the sorcerers leave?’’

‘’We can’t,’’ Wong says gruffly. ‘’The shield prevents us from using portals. Perhaps the Asgardian prince has a way of bypassing it.’’

‘’We have to bring down the shield somehow,’’ Tony intervenes. ‘’We can’t let them dictate this battle.’’

‘’It may be too late for that,’’ Stephen murmurs, and Tony watches him. Ever since he found him standing near the opened window, letting the cold wind in, Stephen has been quiet and soberly resigned. Tony isn’t used to seeing strong emotions from him, obviously, except when they’d been far closer and Stephen overly bothered - but still, this isn’t what he’d expected from him today. This all-encompassing nothingness, this rationality until the end.

‘’We should try,’’ he insists. Stephen looks towards him sharply, and the paleness of his face makes Tony concerned, despite the far heavier worry about the coming battle. There is more than the thought of the nearing violence that bothers the sorcerer - something far beyond anything that Tony can influence, in any case, or perhaps even understand.

‘’All of those who’ve Mastered Power shall be sent to the frontlines,’’ the Ancient One says decisively. ‘’The others will remain with the other forces and prepare for attack.’’

‘’They will be exhausted before we can use Power in battle,’’ Howard protests.

‘’That’s why the shield is there in the first place,’’ Wong says, matter-of-factly, like it’s not only just dawning on Tony. ‘’But unless we negate the shield, we will not have a battle in the first place. It will be a siege, and we’re not equipped to deal with that.’’

The Ancient One turns to Stephen, her back straightened in attention. ‘’Master Strange, round up the Masters of Power and lead them. Concentrate Power in one single spot so that it will break all the easier. We only need to break it in one place and the shield will fall.’’

‘’Wait,’’ Tony says. ‘’Stephen hasn’t Mastered Power. We could use him -’’

Stephen shakes his head. ‘’I did. I lost purple.’’

Tony knows they’re in a room full of people, and yet he finds himself staring. 

‘’But the Test,’’ he says, trying not to feel too foolish. 

It looks like Stephen is forcing himself not to come nearer, his body tense as he meets Tony’s gaze. ‘’I know. I had to Master myself before I could fully Master Power - and I have, now. I’ve Mastered it. I can’t see purple anymore, at any rate, and that’s enough proof.’’

Howard rises from his throne. ‘’There is no time for useless discussions,’’ he says loudly, bushy eyebrows pushed together in concern. ‘’We need to act now. Knight Rhodes, you will ready the soldiers. Tony, stay by his side. We must be shown to be leaders. Master Strange, Master Wong - you will handle the shield. Once it has fallen, the battle will commence and a Master of Space must find King Nicholas to inform him of the situation.’’

~*~

The fires aren’t as bright as they were in the middle of the night. Still, Stephen feels his eyes drawn to the little specks of orange in a sea of grey, looking through the shield to their opponents on the other side.

They’re not that close, but they’re waiting - standing there, armed with fire and metal and the upper hand. Stephen is under no delusion that the battle will start the moment the shield is broken. He’s not exactly in the mood to hurry up. If he tries really hard, he can remember Tony in his sleep, his quiet breathing and sleep-addled murmurs only audible to Stephen.

After today, everything will be different. Everything already is - the moment he’d felt Time stop around him and he’d met Kaecilius, the world had changed. A battle will be fought, and not everyone’s going to make it out. Not with the force Menteri brought along this time.

Now he thinks of Tony in a gleaming armour, crown glinting on top of his curls, sword resting against his hip. This is why Stephen came to the Palace: to protect Tony. He found his motivation in the meanwhile, and he won’t fail. It’s why it feels so wrong to open up this shield - let in the enemy. 

They might have waited it out. They could survive for a day or two and reverse the besiegement. Except, Stephen knows, they’d only doom more of their own warriors to death - and possibly civilians, if Menteri stops focusing on them. Panic would flow, steadily and quickly, and when war would finally arrive, everyone’s hopes would have turned to ash.

And so he pulls at one place, together with the other sorcerers, feeling Power surge underneath his hands and struggle against the shield. He tries not to focus on their enemy, and wonders where their sorcerers are. Kaecilius can hardly be the only one - can he? The Ancient One had never mentioned anyone else, but Stephen finds it hard to believe the shield surrounding the entirety of Ireningas has been conjured by a single sorcerer. 

Once again, he throws a jolt of Power against it, other Masters beside him making the same movements. His arms are aching, his muscles protesting against the continuous movement and strain in his body. Power was never intended to be used for long stretches of time: it’s a spur-of-the-moment Aspect, a last lifeline based on adrenaline. 

It doesn’t last long until the sweat starts drenching down his back, his arms trembling with effort. Some of the other sorcerers have taken a break already, only Wong having continued as long as Stephen himself has been at it. Jane Foster, the Master of Reality who’d helped them trick Aldrich Killian, leans against the stone city wall, clearly catching her breath. Stephen hadn’t been aware she had learnt Power as well, but she must have been one of the few Masters who now Mastered two Aspects.

He drops down next to her, sending a remorseful glance at Wong who still continues throwing spells at the shield. Wong just shrugs and turns back, and Stephen sighs. Somehow, he’s grown to care about the sorcerer’s opinion. It’s hard not to, and he focuses massaging his aching muscles instead.

‘’This isn’t working,’’ Jane Foster says mildly. ‘’The shield is far too strong and our spells won’t break it. We’re only exhausting ourselves.’’

‘’We don’t have any more Masters of Power,’’ Stephen points out, watching the dozen Masters they have. The Sanctum has never been large or full of people, and Stephen used to be proud that he was one of so few. Now it’s a mere inconvenience, because all it means is that they’re lacking in Masters. Especially as Power isn’t one of the overly-studied Aspects: it’s strong but not dynamic, and sorcerers are raised as more than fighters. Two Masters of Power had been lost during the first battle against the Menteri - dead or run away, no one knows, and Stephen doesn’t know where Mordo is. 

‘’Who says only Power can break the shield?’’ Jane says, her eyes sharply focused above them. ‘’Other Aspects might be able to weaken it. No one has said they couldn’t, you know. Reality might push it just as hard. We don’t understand it yet, but with a little testing -’’

Stephen hums. ‘’I hadn’t thought of it,’’ he says, and eyes the shield. ‘’That’s clever.’’

Jane just looks away and pushes herself up. ‘’We have to get some more Masters. We can’t do this by ourselves.’’

‘’I might be able to get some more to you,’’ a new voice comes, familiar to Stephen as the colour of fire. ‘’You know, since I’m the prince. All sorcerers have been ordered to the soldiers for when the fighting starts, but I might be able to convince my father.’’

‘’My prince,’’ Jane Foster bows somewhat clumsily, and the scarlet in her cheeks deepens. ‘’I meant - prince Anthony. Can we - are we -’’

‘’It’s a sound idea,’’ Tony says thoughtfully, gracefully ignoring Jane’s less than stellar attempts at maintaining herself in front of royalty. Most sorcerers are never at court - Stephen had almost forgotten, though he’d never believed himself to leave Kamar-Taj only a year ago. And he’s always seen Jane as such a composed and rational woman. She’d certainly hadn’t been this flustered when they caught Killian with the King.

Then again. The King, whatever he may have been in his youth, doesn’t have Tony’s burning dark eyes and slender strength, nor his crooked grin. Stephen shouldn’t be surprised - in fact, he should have expected to notice the effect Tony might have on others far sooner. Then again, Tony had never really looked at anyone the way he looked at Stephen, and all the women at court are overly familiar with Tony’s roguish charms.

‘’Can we help you, my prince?’’ Stephen asks, and Tony shoots him a slightly annoyed glance. Stephen just shrugs it off - despite the rumours about them going around in court, Tony’s title will always divide them in public.

‘’I saw most sorcerers are too exhausted to continue and came to check up,’’ he says. ‘’And I wanted to have a private word with you, if you weren’t doing anything anyway.’’

‘’Not all of us can wait in the Palace to do their job,’’ Stephen mutters, somewhat annoyed, but Tony’s half-twisted smile softens him again. ‘’I’ll come. Give us a minute, Master Foster. We’ll test out your theory when I return.’’

The wall is long enough for them to walk away without losing sight of the other sorcerers or the shield - Tony just stares at their enemies behind it, toying mindlessly with his armour even as his thoughts are somewhere else. He’s removed his crown for this, and Stephen isn’t sure why. It’s not as if Tony could look any more princely than he is now, and he wonders if Tony worries about the enemy being able to see him. 

‘’Will you be able to break the shield?’’ he asks suddenly, concern tinging his voice. It hadn’t, only a few minutes ago. But then again, Tony is always wearing a mask when it comes to such things, except when he’s with Stephen. He’s not even sure if Tony is aware of it.

Stephen exhales. ‘’Power alone won’t do it. We might have to do more in order to start the battle. But if we do, more sorcerers might be out of the game than we wanted to.’’

‘’We can’t help that,’’ Tony murmurs. ‘’We can’t leave them out there. Hysteria is already spreading. My father is concerned about a riot in the city, and honestly, I can see it happening. They even put more guards in the jail, because some of the prisoners are restless. We can’t afford to lose more warriors to a battle that isn’t the one with Menteri.’’

Stephen thinks of Obadiah for a moment, still alive in the dungeons, awaiting his death sentence. The thought disappears soon, more pressing matters on his mind.

‘’I can try to use more Aspects,’’ he says. ‘’The shield will have to give somehow, Tony. Don’t worry. I’ve been working towards this for many months now.’’

It may not have been the right thing to say, as he sees Tony’s expression tighten. The prince looks at him as if he’s a stranger or a ghost, and Stephen doesn’t know which he’d prefer. ‘’The only colour you have left is orange. Soul.’’

‘’Soul,’’ Stephen confirms. ‘’It’s fine, Tony. The world is mostly grey by now, but it’s fine. I would’ve done it all over again, just to protect you.’’

‘’Stephen?’’ Tony sounds hesitant, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘’What would happen if you mastered Soul, as well?’’

Stephen shakes his head, surreptitiously taking Tony’s hands in his own. It’s the most he dares to do with an audience nearby, though he wishes he weren’t wearing his gloves.

‘’Nothing,’’ he says resolutely. ‘’Simply because I can’t. Soul has never been Mastered. Not in the entire history of the world has there ever been a Master of Soul. This is it, Tony - this is all I will ever Master.’’

Tony exhales. ‘’Has anyone ever Mastered five Aspects before? Has that ever been done?’’

‘’Not to my knowledge.’’

‘’Then,’’ Tony says, ‘’I’m asking you again - what if you Master Soul? Because to me, Stephen, it seems like you’re awfully far gone on a path there’s no going back from.’’

‘’ _My_ path,’’ Stephen insists. ‘’The Ancient One told me that I would lose more than green, Tony - she knew all along. She knows that I need these Aspects. I am a sorcerer, and I always have been. I always will be. If she -’’

‘’She’s manipulative,’’ Tony says bluntly.

‘’She’s my _teacher_.’’

‘’I’m just saying that you have to be _careful_. You’re in a place no one has ever been - there’s a reason that she’s steering you this way, Stephen. And it might be for the good of Veston, however she sees it, but that doesn’t mean that she’s necessarily _right_. Or that it’s good for you. I need you to be safe, okay? I need you to be safe.’’

‘’It’s not your job to keep me safe,’’ Stephen whispers, and wishes more than anything he could hold Tony closer here, but their enemy is watching, as all the other sorcerers. But he _wishes_. Instead, he has to drop Tony’s hands. ‘’It’s my job to keep _you_ safe, and I will do whatever necessary.’’

‘’What a lousy King I will be,’’ Tony says eventually, ‘’if I can’t even keep the one person alive who is most important to me.’’

Promising each other to be safe is a fruitless endeavour, and Stephen doesn’t want to lie to Tony. Not about this. So he just straightens his shoulders and looks back to the shield. It’s been more than a few minutes, by now, and they can’t afford to waste more time.

‘’We can’t change the past,’’ he says eventually. ‘’Time can be bent, but it can’t be broken. I know five Aspects, and there is a small army of sorcerers that has promised to protect Veston, Tony. It’s the only promise we can make, to the best of our abilities. Convince your father to send us more sorcerers. We’ll win this fight. We will.’’

Tony watches him carefully, searching for something. Stephen doesn’t know he sees it when the prince turns away.

‘’I know,’’ he says hollowly, and walks back. In fact, Stephen knows that neither of them are certain of anything anymore. It’s hard to be, with an army in your front door, waiting to be let in.

Stephen closes his eyes for a second and turns back to the shield.

~*~

A myriad of colours hits the shield. Tony watches, leaning against the window as if it’d let him through. Stephen is out there, somewhere - it’s hard to see him from this far away.

More sorcerers are at the wall now, pushing against the shield. It’s nearing the afternoon, the sun clouded in the sky, only patches of a sky that would normally be blue. With the shield in between it and Ireningas, it looks like an eerie purple.

Rhodey and Howard are behind him, quietly discussing tactics. Tony should be participating - others will inform them if the shield falls and the fighting starts. He should join his friend and his father and think about the best way to save the lives of their soldiers. Protective measures, defensive mechanisms - and yet, his mind is blank. All he can do is sit here and watch it unfold as more colours join in the sky, pushing and exploding against a shield keeping them prisoner.

One of the figures down there is Loki. Tony thinks he can recognize the Asgardian prince from the way his magic flows - it’s a white-green, a different shade than Time. It moves differently, not disappearing but maintaining a shape and form before it dissipates. It’s not as impressively blunt as Veston’s Aspects, but there is a sort of ethereal elegance to Loki’s magic that feels just as lethal.

Thor is down with the other soldiers, Tony remembers vaguely; there’d been a plan that he is hard-pressed to remember as he watches the sorcerers. His head aches and he can feel goose bumps forming underneath his armour; the weight heaves on his shoulders.

‘’My prince,’’ Rhodey says quietly, and Tony only doesn’t jump because his voice is so familiar. ‘’I’ll see you when the battle starts.’’

The gravitas of his expression is not to be missed. Tony turns away from the window to view the face of his friend, suddenly so different from what he used to know. Rhodey has been his greatest friend for years, and yet, it feels like it’s too little time. 

Tony swallows and clasps his friend’s arm. ‘’And afterwards,’’ he says. 

It’s not a smile on Rhodey’s face, but it’s soft and warm nonetheless. He nods, embracing Tony for only a second. ‘’And of course afterwards, idiot,’’ he murmurs, and with a quiet nod he leaves. The door falls shut behind him, only ringing silence left.

Tony can feel Howard’s eyes on him. 

‘’This is no time for weakness,’’ Howard says. Yet, his voice isn’t as harsh as Tony expected it to be. He is wearing armour as well; it shines as much as Tony’s does. It’s not his old armour, the one he wore in the stories he told Tony when they weren’t what they are now. When his mother was alive, and the Palace had been a place full of songs and dances instead of murder intrigues and war councils. This is a new armour, one to fit the King’s slighter body and fuller stomach. An armour that isn’t heavier than his crown.

And yet, he almost seems to fall under the weight.

‘’I know,’’ Tony says, and doesn’t know why he helps up his father. Howard grasps his arm in order to stand, and Tony almost wants to parrot back his words. _This is no time for weakness_. It’s not, but it’s time for kindness, apparently, because Tony doesn’t say anything and Howard keeps his eyes lowered. The man’s fingers tighten on Tony’s sleeve for a moment longer than necessary before he lets go, and Howard stands up straight.

‘’You will be King soon,’’ Howard murmurs. ‘’Even if this war ends in our favour, I am an old man. Don’t think I don’t know it, Anthony - I know you think I ignore my limits. What you have never understood is that in our family, with our blood - we are not mere men. We are our fathers and our sons, our past and our future, because we are Veston. Today, we will fight for it.’’

‘’I fight because these are my people,’’ Tony says. He can’t remember the last time Howard was so honest with him. His advice has been patronizing for years now, ever since it became clear that Tony isn’t exactly who Howard wanted him to be. 

The tilt of Howard’s head is minuscule, but Tony recognizes it. He does the same thing, only always in a far more exaggerated motion. ‘’They are our people because we unite them,’’ Howard says. ‘’Kings do not aim to fight, Tony. They aim to create peace. But if you are challenged, do not back down. I don’t think it’s a lesson you still need to learn. You are a bright man.’’

Tony straightens, taking a breath. ‘’I don’t think you’ve ever said that.’’

‘’You will not make the same mistakes I did,’’ Howard says. ‘’You might make different ones, but you have learnt from me. Many things must happen after this battlefield, Tony. Things will be different after this war. Flowers will grow out of blood.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’It’s all the Ancient One said to me about what would happen after this battle,’’ the King explains grimly. ‘’I assume it means a great many people will die. After this battle, we’ll start with that traitor Obadiah. We will see justice. We will.’’

Tony can see the man his father used to be. His hair is grey and thinning, but his fingers grasp the desk forcefully and the line between his eyes is stark. There is an ending of something, right now, and Tony can feel the tightness of it flit between his fingers before it is lost.

‘’Father,’’ he says, a question rising in his chest. ‘’If we -’’

The sudden commotion outside cuts him off. The door slams open again, a grim Friday unapologetically appearing. It’s the first time she doesn’t curtsy when she sees Tony, nor sends him that secretive grin.

‘’The shield is down,’’ she says.

~*~

There is no warning when it happens. There is a second of silence as the barrier between them and a grey sky disappears, and it’s only the faraway shouts of the Menteri that first alert Stephen to the fact that the shield has gone. He’s not the only one; some spells are flung into the air without impacting, sizzling out of existence soon.

An arrow flies through the air only a second later. ‘’Duck!’’ he hears Wong shout, and Stephen throws himself at the ground. Now that the shield is gone, he realizes that it must have muffled the sounds. He can hear the Menteri clearly, yelling and shouting and shooting arrows that are already sizzling above them.

‘’Retreat!’’ he yells, but he’s not sure he can be heard. They are not meant to be on the frontlines, but they’re easy to shoot on top of the city wall. Unless they attack, the Menteri will enter the city and the sorcerers, exhausted as they are, will be killed first.

He stays low, crawling back even though he can feel the rough stone scrape against his unprotected knees. Tiny orange beams of fire sizzle past him; they’re shooting with fire. It won’t do much good, as most buildings are made of stone in Ireningas, but there are plenty of wooden barrels and carts. Stephen grimaces as he hears a pained yell somewhere below, but he doesn’t have time to be concerned.

‘’We can’t fight now,’’ he says when he sees Foster, and pulls her down as she tries to get up.

‘’They’ll get in before the soldiers are here!’’ she says heatedly. ‘’Let me go!’’

He pushes her down again, and can’t bring himself to feel guilty as he hears her puff of pain as she lands on her hands. An arrow would hurt her infinitely more, and he can’t afford to lose more sorcerers. Not when they’ve just brought a war upon themselves.

When another row of arrows flies above their head, Stephen grits his teeth and turns onto his back, staring up into a grey sky. His arms feel sluggish from throwing Power at the shield for hours, but Time doesn’t rely on that same strength. The next volley of arrows is slower, giving enough time to the people beyond the city wall to see them coming.

‘’We have our own way of fighting,’’ Stephen says as he sees Foster watch him. ‘’Make sure you’re not killed. Find our soldiers and protect them. Keep the enemy out of Ireningas, and if you see another sorcerer on Menteri’s - do not fight him.’’

She is smart - she doesn’t ask questions as she crouches further, to the stairs leading down into the city. War cries already sound behind him: the army is quick to march. Foster is a nimble woman, though not the most agile of them all, but she’ll be quick enough to survive. That is what he hopes, at least.

Right as he slows down another volley, Wong approaches. He walks, but the portal behind him will protect him from any incoming arrows. On a first glance, Wong seems as neutral as ever, but Stephen can see the slight pinch between his eyes and the cautious steps he takes.

‘’You are in command here,’’ Wong says quickly, before Stephen can even say anything. ‘’The Ancient One has other priorities. Aspects are not merely the sum of their part, Stephen - you can use them together and be stronger for it. Hold the city until I get back.’’

‘’Where are you going?’’ Stephen asks, faster than he’d meant to as he sits up straighter. ‘’Wong, we need -’’

‘’I’m going to get help,’’ Wong says. His glare softens somewhat, and the portal behind him changes. Wong steps through and it disappears, and an arrow lands right next to Stephen. He almost jumps - he needs to get away from here. The walls aren’t safe, not even for a sorcerer.

He scrambles up, not stopping to pay heed to his exhaustion. Creating a portal behind him that will send the arrow back to outside the city, he climbs down the stairs. Several carts are on fire and a few civilians are rushing home with tear-streaked cheeks and frightened eyes; mostly there are soldiers running, their armour clicking against the stone ground. Stephen dissolves the first portal, creating a new one before him.

Stepping through it, he arrives right before the main gate into Ireningas. This is where the army is, and the fighting, to Stephen’s horror, has already started.

The cries are louder than even the clinging of metal on metal, and Stephen watches on as soldiers crash into each other. It’s hard to see everything, all things equally grey to him, and he isn’t sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

It won’t be convenient in the oncoming fight, though, and Stephen hadn’t even thought about how seeing colours might make a difference in warfare. Neither does he stop to think about it now when he spots Rhodey and Tony, next to each other. They’re not quite on the frontline, or he wouldn’t have seen them, but the army revolves around them, swirling around their directions. 

It’s obvious what they’re trying to do. It is imperative that the Menteri stay outside of the city - once they get in, the battle will be lost. Ireningas is hard to infiltrate, and once taken, it won’t be given away again. The Menteri know this as well, however, and push back. It’s only the battle for the gate, and it will determine what the rest of the war will be.

Stephen grimaces. Within a fragment of a second, he’s created a portal again and steps through it, in front of their own army. Lifting his arms, he throws a wave of Power at their enemies; the Menteri stagger backwards, and Stephen keeps them there for a moment.

‘’Stephen?’’ Tony says, appearing next to him. There is sweat and grime on his brow but he doesn’t seem injured. That’s something, even if Stephen hates seeing him here.

He grits his teeth as he feels his muscles straining. He can’t keep up for much longer, but the battle has only just started. ‘’Get your men to attack,’’ he says, and he doesn’t know if Tony hears the tremor in his voice. ‘’I’ll push them back long enough for you to get out of the gate. We need to gain enough ground to bring out an army.’’

At least Tony doesn’t ask any more unnecessary questions - he signals to his men, who stride forward when Stephen pushes against the Menteri again. It’s something like a shield of his own, what he’s doing, except he can already feel the strain of it when it’s this small. He can’t imagine any sorcerer creating a shield like the one that had kept Ireningas captive.

‘’Stand ready!’’ Rhodey bellows, and his sword glints, even despite the clouds. Stephen turns his feet, trying to stand more firmly. His hands are trembling again, and he can’t quite tell if it’s the injury that has returned, if his grip of Mind is slipping or if it’s just all of him that won’t stop shivering. 

‘’Now!’’ he yells, falling to his knees as his army runs forward. Lost in a world in which he can only see legs, Stephen breathes out loudly, his head suddenly spinning. Even if he’s Mastered so many Aspects, he has a limited supply of energy. If he stays, he’ll be dead soon - but if he leaves, he can’t keep an eye on Tony.

One of the soldiers helps him up, quite suddenly. Stephen leans against an armoured soldier, suddenly recognizing the face of Everett Ross.

‘’You’re alright?’’ the man asks neutrally, though his eyes are sharp. There’s a streak of something on his cheek - blood, probably - but he doesn’t seem bothered.

‘’Wonderful thing to ask,’’ Stephen mutters, eyeing the battle going on in front of them. They’re out of immediate danger, with the fighting mostly going on in front of the gate, but some Menteri might still break through.

Everett, unexpectedly, cracks a sympathetic smile. ‘’You’re no use to anyone if you can’t manage to stand, Master Strange,’’ he says. ‘’Leave the fighting to us. That’s why we are here.’’

‘’Tony,’’ Stephen says, and he doesn’t know why. Everett just tilts his head, like Stephen did not say anything unexpected. Perhaps he heard of the rumours too; Stephen doesn’t even care who knows about how he feels for Tony at this point. Staying alive has priority.

‘’I’ll keep an eye on him,’’ the soldier promises. ‘’I promise.’’

With that, Everett kindly helps him stand by himself and disappears into the battle. Stephen stands back, watching for a few moments. He is helpless, however, and they seem to have the upper hand for now. He would create a portal but he can’t, so he stumbles back into the city. Maybe he’ll run into another sorcerer.

~*~

Tony tries to be on the frontline, but Rhodey clearly disapproves. His friend stays by his side almost relentlessly, mercilessly. Such loyalty comes at the price of their enemy’s blood - if Tony strays even a little bit away from him, Rhodey will soon appear next to him again, his dark eyes defiant behind his iron helmet. 

The Menteri outnumber them, but fortunately it doesn’t matter so much when they’re defending such a small stroke of land. Their defences are tight, and there are only so many Menteri that can attack at the same time without risking fighting each other - Tony makes use of the chaos, attacking where the most Menteri are trying eagerly to prove themselves.

He doesn’t think about the blood staining the sword that had been untouched this morning. He ignores the cries for help and garbles of agony. These are his enemies, and they threaten his people. That’s everything he allows himself to go through his head, though some faint concerns keep coming. He has no time to worry about Pepper in the Palace, or Stephen, who escaped to who-knows-where. 

A soldier comes at him, crying out loud as his sword connects with Tony’s breast plate. He stumbles back under the sheer force, instinctively raising his sword above his head as he ducks into himself. The Menteri steps forward, invigorated by seeing Tony stumble, but Tony manages to push against him, making them both fall to the ground.

Tony reacts faster than his opponent does, and knocks him in the head. The Menteri falls off him, his hands grappling with the muddied grass underneath him for the sword he’s dropped. Tony tightens the hold on his own sword and stabs him. The motion is aborted suddenly, and before Tony can even process his own thoughts and feelings, he’s knocked over again. He closes his eyes instinctively when the glimmer catches his eyes, and he can’t raise his sword in defense now -

A roar is the first thing he hears over the sound of metal hitting metal, and there’s Rhodey, silver armour still glinting despite the battle. He knocks over their enemy with the butt of his sword before pushing them further away, menacingly leaning over Tony. 

‘’Cover for me!’’ he yells out to their soldiers, and somehow there’s enough of them that Tony can’t see the Menteri within seconds. Only then Rhodey turns to offer him a hand, a weary smile present on his lips.

‘’I had that handled,’’ Tony manages, though he gladly takes Rhodey’s support.

‘’You mean you fight horizontally?’’ Rhodey snorts. ‘’Come on. We can’t hold this forever. We’re outnumbered here.’’

‘’We have to retreat into Ireningas,’’ Tony says as he leans a bit against his friend. He’s not injured, but he can’t think about what’s happening. He’s not afraid to fight, but he has never faced such a force before. ‘’Move the party, so to say. Somewhere we have more of an advantage.’’

‘’You call this a party?’’ Rhodey murmurs, and jostles him a bit. ‘’A few of the Menteri managed to slip into the city. I think our forces can handle them, but there’s guaranteed to be more if we keep this up. We need a diversion to keep the Menteri away while we retreat.’’

‘’Stephen?’’ Tony asks automatically, though he hopes Stephen’s not here anymore. He’d seemed far too wearied when he came to help them earlier. The thought of Stephen falling here brings back memories of seeing him during that first battle, and his heart turns to ice.

‘’Haven’t seen him,’’ Rhodey says and Tony focuses on the present. It’s not hard, with the noise going around them. And their soldiers are still fighting - Tony needs to get them away from here, where there’s no victory to be won. ‘’A sorcerer would help, though.’’

‘’Find one,’’ Tony insists. ‘’We need someone -’’

A burst of light shines above them - purple and red exploding right before the fight. To Tony’s weary eyes, it seems that dragons snap at the Menteri, sending them scrambling back from the lines. The soldiers fall over in panic, and Tony doesn’t know why his own soldiers listen to him when he holds up his hand, but magically, they do. Somehow, they watch as a wedge is driven between them, and the only thing that connects their own force to the Menteri army is a line of awkwardly-fallen bodies.

‘’Retreat!’’ he shouts, only faintly aware of the hoarseness of his voice. ‘’To Ireningas!’’

He stands for a moment, watching as two Menteri fall to the magic. Behind him, he can hear his soldiers scuffling back. Rhodey grabs him - his grip is strong even through the armour. When Tony turns back towards the wall, he sees a figure in orange stand on top of the walls, hands raised to the sky. She flashes him a quick smile when she catches him looking, and Tony looks away.

The Ancient One may still be the Sorcerer Supreme, but her tendency to keep secrets and the way she manipulates Stephen still rubs Tony the wrong way, whether it’s for the good of the kingdom or not. 

The doors are closed once all the soldiers are inside, and she easily finds him in the crowd. She, of course, stands out, her orange tunic not dirtied by the mud.

‘’Good timing,’’ Tony says begrudgingly as she stands straight opposite him. Her stance reminds him of Stephen, he realizes - the certainty of her gaze, the unflinching calm.

‘’Certainly important to have for a Master of Time,’’ she acknowledges, though Tony’s not as naive as he used to be. She knows what she needs to do, and she won’t share it with them. He’s not sure yet as to what it’ll mean, but he can only trust that she will do what is best for them, in the end. She certainly won’t give up her secrets now.

‘’Not just Time,’’ Tony notes, the space around them emptying out as Rhodey takes control of their forces. ‘’Reality and Power, weren’t they? I don’t think I’ve seen you use any Aspects ever since you came to court.’’

‘’We were never closely acquainted, my prince,’’ she points out merrily. ‘’I do what is necessary. Come, I will strengthen the doors. The battle is done for today - the Menteri are impressed enough by our force to take a break and discuss further strategy, and we must do the same.’’

‘’A few Menteri came into Ireningas,’’ Tony says, remembering Rhodey’s words. ‘’We need to find them.’’

A crease appears between the Ancient One’s brows, as if she’s trying to remember where she heard such a thing before. ‘’Yes,’’ she says. ‘’I will take my leave, my prince. The King is waiting.’’

She doesn’t wait to create a portal, and without her there, the streets seem far more colourless. Tony rubs his eyes for a second, ignoring the clanking sound of his armour as he watches the soldiers march back to the Palace. Frightened people are watching from further away from the safety of their houses, and he just sighs as he follows Rhodey.

This wasn’t a battle yet - not like the one they will face soon. This was to see what each side would do, and for now, they have some rest.


	19. Orange / II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the war begins.

The Menteri have retreated a bit, but their camp is visible from every part of Ireningas. The tension in the city is palpable, and Stephen can’t stop himself from checking on the enemy from the window while Christine checks him over.

‘’You’re not off too badly,’’ she says. A dozen soldiers are in the room, waiting for her attention - healers are in short supply when there’s a war going on.

Stephen offers her a quick smile. ‘’It’s mostly exhaustion and some scrapes.’’

‘’Well, make sure it stays that way,’’ Christine mutters unhappily. ‘’Stephen, this fight -’’

‘’I know.’’

He does know exactly what she means - her discontent with the entire situation, with the way it’s being handled. Christine loves peace, and she’s never even duelled as far as Stephen is aware. It’s not in her nature, and he admires that in her. He can only think of Tony’s sword, gold combined with red of rubies and red of blood, and prays that the prince isn’t too badly injured.

He leaves her care after she moves to another patient, wandering through the hallways. He’d somehow expected the Palace to be crawling with people, but he can’t remember it ever being so silent. Everyone is in their homes, spending the night with their loved ones.

He wishes he could see Tony. Instead, his feet wander to a tower - the room meant for sorcerers in the Palace, and it feels like a lifetime since he spent some time here. From the higher floor, the tiny flames in the Menteri’s camps are like white dots on a black canvas, instead of the warning it is.

Today was only a trial run. It is tomorrow that everything will happen, and Stephen has to focus Mind in order to keep his hands from trembling.

‘’Stephen.’’

He looks up from the window towards his teacher’s voice. The Ancient One always stood out in her orange tunic, but in the dark she seems even more luminous.

‘’I don’t think I could have done what you did,’’ he says, looking back towards the window. ‘’See this war coming, and let all come to pass as it has. To know what’s on the line before everyone else does and not say a word.’’

She joins him, watching along.

‘’That is because you still haven’t learnt what it is to sacrifice,’’ she says kindly. ‘’It’ll snow, tomorrow. Such a sad thing, for terror and death to happen in such beautiful weather. White never lies, Stephen Strange.’’

Stephen stills. ‘’Was I a choice?’’ he asks. ‘’Or a necessity?’’

‘’Why you?’’ she murmurs. ‘’You always seem to end up on that question.’’

‘’And you always seem to evade it.’’

The Ancient One smiles - he can feel it more than he can see it, and she lies a hand on his shoulder. She isn’t a tactile woman, usually, and Stephen turns back to her.

‘’I had no say in the matter, Stephen,’’ the Ancient One says honestly. ‘’You seem to believe that I can answer your question - why you. Why you, indeed? In every future I saw, every possible tangent, every way to make this war end in an acceptable way - I never saw anyone else, as if the future was set in stone in this one way. That if there was an end, it would involve you. Perhaps it is because of something I have not foreseen. Perhaps it’s because you would never have accepted being anywhere else, even if you didn’t know it yet.’’

Stephen frowns. ‘’That is not how Time works.’’

‘’It’s snowing,’’ she says. ‘’That’s earlier than I saw.’’

‘’Not even the weather is set in stone,’’ Stephen says, gesturing at the outside. ‘’Why are you lying to me?’’

‘’Why are you so sure that I’m lying?’’

Her gaze is focused and very honest. Stephen is taken aback for a moment, frowning at her question. ‘’You’ve never told me the entire truth,’’ he says.

‘’I don’t know the entire truth,’’ she says as if it’s only a minor detail, and turns back to the window. She is right about the snow - it falls down softly, plastering itself against the glass before turning to droplets of rain trickling down. 

‘’Will I survive, tomorrow?’’ he asks quietly. ‘’Will Tony?’’

She tilts her head, but does not look back at him. Her finger goes to touch the glass, following the path of a single snowflake. It turns to water, intermingling with its siblings, only speeding up its path downward.

‘’The thing that Masters of Time have to learn,’’ she starts, ‘’is that we never have full control over what we do. We can only try our best, Master Strange, and be surprised. If you duck when any swords come at you, I’m relatively certain of your survival. If the prince is equally smart, he might, too.’’

Stephen snorts against his will. ‘’I’ll try to remember that,’’ he says.

‘’You should.’’

It’s almost like old times, sitting with his mentor, uncertain what to make of her words. Stephen, however, didn’t become a Master by waiting around on seeing what she meant. He will have to make sure that he survives tomorrow, and he’ll have to believe that Tony will, too. Everything else can come after.

Everything else will come after, he promises, and watches the snow with her.

~*~

The burials are short and unceremonial, but it’s the best they can do. They’ve given the bodies of the soldiers they could find to any family they had - the others simply lie in the graves made for them in the graveyard. 

Howard is there, as well as Tony and Rhodey. Some other soldiers are attending, but no one who is injured. Tony hasn’t seen any sorcerers yet, but he hadn’t expected any, either. Most are exhausted from lifting the shield or otherwise injured by the first wave of attack. 

‘’Any sight of the Menteri?’’ Tony asks Rhodey quietly, watching one of the soldiers fall to their knees near a newly-dug grave, crying his eyes out. His lack of emotion almost feels unreal, but he still has a pain in his chest that he’s not sure comes from the Arc or from his own feelings about the battle.

Rhodey just shakes his head. ‘’I’ve had some of the guards look all over the city, but no reports of any odd activity. We’ll have to station some extra guards in the Palace at night.’’

Tony grimaces. More duty is the last thing he wants to ask of his men on the eve of battle, but Rhodey is right. There are Menteri in Ireningas right now, and they can’t simply let them run amok. The large possibility they are laying low is not lost on Tony, but they can’t afford to take any chances.

‘’Let’s go,’’ Tony says eventually, as he suddenly feels sick at the thought of staring at the graves any longer. ‘’We should give them all some privacy.’’

Rhodey glances at him. ‘’Right,’’ he agrees, though Tony knows there’s little privacy to be found, with so many soldiers and citizens grieving their friends and family. He feels a sudden snowflake fall on his hand, and then another one on his cheek - it stings with cold, unexpectedly bringing him some more energy.

The Palace is only a few minutes away from the graveyards, but Tony doesn’t look back, nor does he look towards the red fires of the Menteri camp on the other side of the city wall. Tomorrow, he will bury far more men, and that’s only if he survives. Tomorrow, it could be him that’s gone, or Rhodey, or Happy, or Stephen. It could be all of them.

Ireningas could be burnt down to ashes, he thinks, and there could be no one left to bury. 

‘’Do you need to see a healer?’’ Rhodey asks him, maybe only in order to fill the silence. Tony sighs at him, shaking his head.

‘’I’m fine,’’ he says wryly. ‘’I’m more concerned about tomorrow. And I want to find Stephen. I need to talk to him about - well. I’m not actually sure about what.’’

Rhodey just stares knowingly at him. ‘’He’s a good guy, Tony,’’ he eventually says. ‘’I feel better knowing that he’s looking out for you. Go find him. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’

Tomorrow. Tony closes his eyes for a moment, and grabs Rhodey’s arm. ‘’Tomorrow,’’ he repeats a little too intently. Before he can think too hard about it, he leaves for the royal wing. Mindlessly, he walks empty hallways. His steps echo, as he’s still partly in armour. Outside, he can see the snow blowing through the air, almost stormy. 

‘’My prince!’’

It’s Happy who calls out for him when he turns around the corner, sounding relieved as he nears him.

‘’Happy?’’ Tony asks, furrowing his brow upon seeing the guard in front of his own door. It’s only a little further down the path towards Stephen’s room, but he’d wanted to get rid of his armour first. 

‘’I’m glad you’re safe,’’ Happy says. ‘’They found seven Menteri soldiers in the Palace, but they didn’t manage to capture them. Four soldiers who saw them escape died.’’

Tony’s blood runs very, very cold, as if a thousand of the tiny snowflakes falling outside are now inside him, as well. ‘’Why were they here?’’ he demands. ‘’Is everyone -’’

It’s an unfair question, to ask if everyone is alright, and he swallows it. Four soldiers have died, on top of the dozen that laid down their lives earlier this day, and all Tony can care about right now is that it’s no one he knows personally. It’s easier to pretend it’s all worth it when he’s not the one staring at a grave, when it’s not his hands clawing at the earth, wishing it was someone else.

Happy doesn’t appear to see Tony’s inner struggle. ‘’No, everyone’s alright,’’ he assures him, and Tony swallows his bitter feelings. ‘’They took Stane, though, and they wrecked the throne room. The King is still at the graveyard, but we didn’t know where you were. We thought he might have done something to you.’’

‘’But they saw him escape?’’ Tony presses. 

Happy nods. ‘’Along with the Menteri. Don’t know what they’re going to do with him, to be honest.’’

Tony was wrong. He closes his eyes, exhaling loudly as he leans against the wall, wearier than ever. He’d assumed that Obadiah’s worth to Menteri lied only in what he could do for them inside Ireningas, as an inside agent. He’d believed Obadiah was only useful as long as he was hidden, and he’d been wrong.

They should’ve killed him when they had the chance, he reflects. He deserved that grave more than any of the men who died today. The traitor, the liar, the manipulator - and he’d pulled a trick one more time.

The next time he sees Obadiah, Tony decides, he’s going to put a sword through his heart. It’s all Obadiah would have done to him, if it hadn’t messed up his plans. 

‘’It doesn’t matter anymore,’’ he says. ‘’What’s done is done. Go to sleep, Happy. It’s going to be a long day for all of us tomorrow, and there’s no Menteri in the city anymore. They’ve achieved what they wanted to achieve for today, but tomorrow we’ll show them that the men of Veston are made of iron.’’

‘’You’ll need a guard, Tony,’’ Happy says fiercely. ‘’You don’t know all Menteri are gone. This might just be a trap, and I’ll be there to spring it for you.’’

Tony smiles. Happy is convinced, steady as a rock, and a surge of fondness makes him pat the man on his back. 

‘’Don’t worry, Happy. I’m going to spend my night with a fearsome sorcerer who’ll be able to deal with any Menteri who comes my way. You might as well spend your night with May. You can protect me again tomorrow, but for now, we all need some rest.’’

Happy trips over his words, even as Tony passes him by and moves into the direction of Stephen’s room. He can’t wait any longer - he’ll just have the sorcerer take care of his armour, and fall into his arms right after. The night before a war isn’t the time to care for anything else than that.

Stephen is waiting for him even as Tony finds the hallway to his chambers. Light falls over his shoulders from a burning candle, making the sorcerer more of a silhouette than an actual man. 

‘’Reading Minds again, weren’t you?’’ Tony asks him, the relief of seeing Stephen filling his chest. Something loosens inside him, and the ice and fears of this evening aren’t forgotten, but with Stephen here, he doesn’t have to think about it too hard.

Stephen’s answering smile is small and wry. ‘’Not necessarily. You’re just thinking very loudly. Something about armour, and me taking it off.’’

‘’Sounds like me,’’ Tony agrees. ‘’Is that something you’d have a problem with?’’

Stephen tilts his head. ‘’Not as long as we don’t talk about making me put it on again.’’

Tony reaches him then, and in the armour, he doesn’t have to tiptoe to kiss Stephen. The sorcerer relaxes against him, his gloved hand pressing Tony’s face even closer. Tony stays there for a while even after the short kiss ends, simply breathing against Stephen’s lips.

‘’If we start talking about any of that,’’ he murmurs, ‘’I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.’’

‘’Do you need to stop?’’ Stephen asks him. It’s such a sincere question, and Tony closes his eyes.

‘’Yes,’’ he whispers.

Stephen gently kisses him, and then steps back to walk him inside the room, never letting his lips go too far away from Tony’s. Without either of them touching the door, it falls shut, and Stephen removes Tony’s sword from his side first. Laying it on his desk, the hilt glinting against the candle light, Stephen turns back to him. His touch is gentle against Tony’s face, and Tony breathes in with expectation.

‘’You won’t hear a word from me,’’ Stephen promises.

Tony breathes out, and outside, the snow falls.

~*~

The world outside feels cold and grey, even if Stephen hadn’t lost most of his colours. Tony is silent beside him, and they’re not joking, today. 

The sun hasn’t even risen behind the clouds, though he can’t find the moon anywhere either. The snow is still gently falling, covering the ground in white. Stephen breathes in the crisp air, feeling the coldness settle in his lungs.

‘’Last year, Rhodey took the Knights of Virtue outside for a training session in the snow,’’ Tony says. ‘’Clint came to play a prank on them, throwing snowballs from one of the towers from the Palace. They never even saw him, I think. Steve was acting as shield for the rest of the Knights at the end of it. He was dripping wet - I think he had a cold for two weeks after.’’

Stephen is silent. Last year, he’d been in Kamar Taj, readying himself for his final Test. He can’t remember if they even saw snow. If they did, he wasn’t there to join in any fun. He’d aimed for the future, and here it is - the snow is here, ready to be painted with blood.

In a way, he’s relieved he won’t be able to see it stained red. To him, snow will always be white, and this war won’t take away such a childish notion.

‘’It’s still snow,’’ he says eventually. ‘’It’ll come again other years.’’

_If we live to see them_ , he doesn’t say. Tony clearly thinks it, but he doesn’t say it either. He just nods, leaning against Stephen’s bare arm with his curls. It itches against his skin, but he wishes he could hold Tony here all day, warm inside and by his side.

‘’It won’t be the same,’’ Tony does say.

Stephen presses a kiss to his forehead. Tony closes his eyes for a moment, and his mind spins into action, too fast for Stephen to follow any specific thoughts. 

He doesn’t want to know, anyway, so he focuses on the outside again. It’s not fully day again, but it’s not night either - the light is coming, if not the sun, and he can’t see any fire from the Menteri’s camp. At least they have the advantage of not having slept in the snow all night - he’s certain that their opponents must be cranky. Winter is not the best time to hold a siege.

Except this war will end today. Stephen tightens his hold on Tony, who pats him on his hand for a moment. 

‘’Promise me you’ll be safe,’’ Stephen murmurs despite the fact he’d promised himself he wouldn’t bring up the fight or ask for something that Tony couldn’t give. So much for good intentions - the very thought of letting the prince run into battle makes his heart bleed.

Tony offers him a wry smile and escapes from his grasp. ‘’You’d best help me get into the armour again,’’ he says. 

So maybe Tony is better at not letting his feelings slip. Except the way he turns away, Stephen isn’t entirely sure that that’s in fact true. 

‘’Yes,’’ Stephen says, and there’s nothing left to say when day breaks, and with it, their play-pretend.

~*~

The plan is simple, in essence. Nothing about war is ever that easy, but it’s good to understand. Wong is still gone, presumably having made contact with King Nicholas’ army by now - Stephen hopes that their allies won’t join too late.

In any case, until Skida arrives, the sorcerers are to hold Ireningas safe. They provide shelter for the injured near the walls and make sure the gates are held, so the city won’t be breached. The soldiers are to take the fight away from the city as far as they can, which they will do by coming only from the west gate. It will draw the Menteri soldiers towards them and give the Veston warriors an advantage, as the Menteri will have to cross some slippery parts to get near them. The snow will only enhance that effect.

Stephen stands very silent. The sorcerers are easy to recognize. Their numbers are so few - in his mind, the Sanctum had been large as life, filled with people and knowledge and the Arts. All he can see now is a group of determined people who have been trained to fight, but have forgotten how. The Sanctum was supposed to be the first line of defence for the Kings and Queens of Veston - and in the years of peace, they’d forgotten it.

No wonder Stephen was assigned to Tony, he realizes. Very few of the sorcerers in the Sanctum are real fighters anymore. 

Snow still falls, but very lightly. The Menteri were up before them - they stand on the other side of the wall, and he can hear the noise of their conversations and their yells. He can’t make out a clear leader in their midst, which is unfortunate. The first rule of war is to strike down the commander and create chaos. 

Kaecilius is nowhere to be found, or he’s hiding very well. Stephen stretches out with Mind, but almost gets a headache from how much tension and fear is all around him. Tony is still familiar to him, standing out in the crowd, but the prince stands with his troops. He’s seated on a horse next to his father, the only to get such a privilege besides the Knights of Virtue. 

The only other person he can feel is the Ancient One. She is among the soldiers as well, right behind Howard, though she doesn’t have a horse. Her job is to create a shield that will stop the Menteri from coming towards Ireningas at first - it’ll be hard to keep up, but her powers are unparalleled.

Unless Kaecilius comes knocking, of course. But it is unlikely he’ll press his advantage too early in the battle, so Stephen tries not to think about such things too hard. Kaecilius is not his to worry about - his job is to keep Tony safe and to protect as many of their own fighters as he can.

Something shifts in their own forces. The doors of the west gate creak open, and Howard is the first through them. Tony rides beside him, his face pale, until he closes his helmet. Stephen can still feel him, however, and just watches him.

If only Tony survives, he can deal with anything that comes after.

The Menteri wait it out, and Stephen watches. In the meanwhile, he creates his first shield from where he’s sitting. If the Menteri make any move towards entering the city, which they haven’t so far, they’ll be stopped. 

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

Veston’s army trickles out of the city. On the plain, they stand opposing each other. Ireningas looms above them, casting a barely-visible shadow on the forces that drain from the city. Stephen squints at them, trying to make out any difference. It will be hard to differentiate between forces - he knows the Veston fight in red, and the Menteri in blue, but it’s not as if he can see. 

It’s not a problem anyone ever warned him of. It will not remain a problem, he suspects - once the battle is midway, it’ll be chaos enough that no one will be able to pay heed to the colours. 

For a moment, two forces stand opposite each other. The Menteri are fewer in number, if he’d had to guess, but it would come out mostly evenly. Kaecilius will have plans in place, and Stephen focuses on finding the Ancient One again. She has seen this, and she has acted. He can only have faith in her now, and play his own part.

He is here for a reason. As long as he knows that, he’ll fight for it.

The Menteri charge. It starts out slow, like the snowdrops Stephen watched last night. With one comes the other, however, and it takes a comical few moments before the armies have even found each other. It’s mindless running, no blood at all -

and then it is.

Stephen quickly closes off Mind when the first men die. The sudden pain, coming in spikes so quickly, disturbs him. His hands start trembling, but he takes it as it comes for a moment. He’d rather tremble for a few moments than have backlash on his mind and be incapacitated for far longer. He will have to lock Mind tightly if he wants to get through this battle, and just use it enough only to focus on himself. 

Reality and Power make for a good shield when the first Menteri come too close to the wall. A powerful giant coming at them, smashing the ground near them to pieces, sends the first of them flying. It hits two of them, and they go down with a cry as Power sizzles near them. Stephen allows himself to feel the heaviness on his chest for only a moment before killing it.

This is war. These men decided to come here and fight for their kingdom, and so has Stephen.

With Space, he creates a portal for himself near the battlefield. His sword hangs from his hip and he grasps it, giving him a moment to adjust Mind. He can still feel the buzz from the battlefield, but he doesn’t notice it until he focuses and his hands are steady. It’s a good thing, because the first Menteri soldier takes only a moment to come at him.

Stephen might not be able to recognize which soldier belongs to which country, but a Sorcerer from the Sanctum, red cape and dark tunics, is certainly fair game for the Menteri.

He keeps up the shield in order to make sure no Menteri comes even close to the gates, but joining the fray divides his focus. He’s on the edges, but all his training couldn’t prepare him for this kind of battle. Multiple enemies come at him, and it’s only through a combination of Time and Power that Stephen manages to keep them at bay. Mind is no use to him with so many people and so little focus, and he doesn’t have time to think of spells to use with Reality.

He can feel the sweat down his brow in just a minute, and he’s not even wearing heavy armour. The snow below him is nearly gone with all the movement, but he has to take care not to slip. Stephen is used to agility working in his favour during a battle, but war has no time for acrobatics - nor does it allow him to consider using it, having already lost his footing one time too many. Fortunately, Time makes up for a great many of his failings.

Space allows him to send a portal over one too many soldiers coming near, and he unapologetically lets the other portal end in space. Stephen barely takes into account the scream as the man falls to the ground, already focused on not getting disemboweled by the next soldier coming at him. He throws Power at the man, taking out him and the one behind him, while his sword slashes aimlessly in the other direction.

‘’Stephen!’’ 

He knows that voice. Stephen accesses Mind, just a little bit, and it’s not difficult to feel how nearby Tony is once he does. The presence of a thousand unfamiliar minds can’t be turned off, though, and he winces as he closes Mind off again. 

Tony’s horse is long gone, and there’s splatters of blood all over his armour. It’s not a pretty sight, but he seems to be uninjured. Plenty of soldiers surround him, still, and Stephen recognizes Rhodey as he aggressively makes his way to the group, throwing the Menteri soldiers out of the way with a well-aimed punch of Reality that sends them scrambling for another spot.

‘’Tony,’’ Stephen says, his voice hoarse. ‘’Are you alright?’’

‘’Peachy,’’ Tony says, glancing to their sides. His soldiers flank him from all sides, and they allow Stephen into the ring, so for a moment, they’re in a safe spot. 

Stephen pulls him close for only a moment - then, he lets go, feeling far wearier than he has any right to be. Judging from the sun, they’ve been fighting for only an hour or so. He can still see the shield from the Ancient One near the gate, and figures that’s where Howard will be, too.

‘’Have you seen any leaders?’’ he shouts in order to get over the noise from the battlefield. ‘’Kaecilius?’’

‘’Not a wink,’’ Tony yells back, and winces. ‘’I don’t think they’re here yet, Stephen. I think they’re waiting for something. We’ll have to draw them out.’’

Stephen nods. ‘’Stay away from him if you do see him.’’

‘’Stephen -’’

‘’Promise me,’’ he says, far softer, but Tony seems to understand him anyway. ‘’He’s a sorcerer, Tony. That’s not a fight you can win.’’

‘’Let her handle it,’’ Tony tells him fiercely. ‘’The Ancient One will deal with him. She’s got a plan, right? Look, we’re keeping them from the gates, but can you blow a hole in their defences on the left? They’re defending some bowmen that keep us from striking back.’’

Stephen nods. ‘’I’ll see you later,’’ he promises, and portals himself away from Tony’s men. It’s a bit jarring to end up in the middle of a fight, but then again, the enemy aren’t expecting him there either. He can see what Tony is talking about - there is a small portion of a line that the Menteri are holding, and behind it, some very skilled archers hide.

Not for long. Stephen uses Power to blow away their shields. With Reality, he makes it look as if a group of swordsmen are coming at them from the other side, adding in some shouts for effect. The archers stand up, panicked by the sudden turn of events, running right into the fight. From there on, it’s easy, and Stephen turns back in order to defend himself again.

It’s a lone and lurking thing, the isolation he feels in the middle of this battle, despite the consciousness he can still feel lurking with Mind. He belongs to one side, but the fight is his. Restraining himself from using Power too often, afraid he’ll only weaken himself in the long run, he has to rely on all his Aspects and his own physical strength to get him through the battle.

Stephen is not sure why he notices, in the middle of a fight. Someone is coming at him and he can only duck, but he barely has time to send them through a portal and away from him before he glances at the city gate.

With a decisive snap, he stops Time to watch the failing shield. 

‘’That’s a problem,’’ Stephen mutters to himself and creates another portal. He jumps through it only to have Time restart at the other side. 

He immediately has to duck to avoid losing his head and throws out his sword into the general direction the attack came from. A body falls on top of him, and he throws it away, looking around himself in panic. 

The shield is right in front of him, the brightness of it flickering. The Ancient One stands in the middle of it, untouched by war or blood, though her eyes -

She’s seen it all before. She has seen these men die twice, and she’s led them here despite it. 

The Ancient One is not looking at him, though. She’s looking to her right, and Stephen immediately sees. He almost doesn’t recognize Kaecilius - he _is_ war-torn, dressed in a Menteri armour, dirty with what Stephen supposes to be blood, though he can’t see its colour. He walks purposefully, soldiers of either side pushed aside without him even lifting a finger.

And the Ancient One struggles with the sheer strength that pulses from him. Stephen can feel it, the thread pulling at his awareness of Mind, almost taking away his control of himself and giving it to Kaecilius. There is a darkness in him, but it takes and it takes, and Stephen inhales, even as he focuses on evading another attack from his left.

He can’t stay here, such an easy target for the Menteri forces. 

‘’Kill him!’’

It’s King Howard’s voice. He has stayed close to her, close to the shield - Stephen doesn’t have time to find the source of the royal’s voice, as Stephen jolts into action. Three soldiers throw themselves at Kaecilius, and fall to the ground boneless before they’ve even touched him.

It’s not one Aspect that he’s using, Stephen can see that much. In fact, he’s not really sure how Kaecilius is commanding this much power at all without burning through his energy in a minute.

Stephen grits his teeth even as the Ancient One holds up her shield, her chin up in defiance. She is not alone - she never has been. Running as fast as he can through the snow and past the fallen bodies, Stephen holds up his hands and focuses.

A blast of pure Power goes directly for Kaecilius’ head. It’s the only thing so far that makes the other sorcerer stop for a moment, and he turns towards Stephen.

‘’You chose your side,’’ he says almost cavalier. ‘’Stay out of my business with the Ancient One, Strange. I’d hate for you to take away my chance at killing you and your prince later this day.’’

‘’You can try,’’ Stephen snarls. Combining Reality, Power and Space, he desperately creates something that is as close to an explosive as the Mystic Arts could possibly offer. It appears right next to Kaecilius, in the form of a cloud that surrounds him. Power sets it off, but Kaecilius shields against it, and it sends a dozen soldiers flying as Kaecilius directs it towards the Ancient One’s shield.

It flickers, dies - and comes back up.

‘’Very well,’’ Kaecilius says, and Stephen would think he was annoyed if not for the fact it sounded more like an unavoidable vexation that he needed to get rid of anyway. ‘’I’ll kill you right away and save myself some trouble later on.’’

With that, Kaecilius moves towards him.

Stephen straightens, panting. He still has enough energy left over for the battle, but if he fights Kaecilius, he can’t allow himself to hold onto anything he has. He must trust that his powers will be enough - that he will be able to take down Kaecilius with it. Even if he dies himself, that’ll be worth it.

He tries very hard not to think about Tony.

Kaecilius stares at him very intently, and Stephen holds up his sword with his right hand. His left hand is raised, his fingers warm with any spell he can think to cast. 

Mind falls away, and Stephen falls to the ground as a thousand deaths suddenly resonate in his thoughts, and he can see the red in the snow through the eyes of a man three feet away, a sword in his neck and blood hurt pain agony nothing -

and then another one, and another one -

_please no_ and the snow is red and red and red and Stephen wishes he couldn’t see red anymore -

Kaecilius stands before him, his sword raised, glinting, and the world is grey but the world will end soon, and Stephen is still struck with the feeling of dying a hundred deaths. Kaecilius’ mind is something _darker_ than that of a man, like a void that hungers for power and agony, and having it touch him leaves Stephen whimpering in pain. His sword falls to the ground as he can’t control the tremble in his hands, and the snow claims the first gift Tony ever gave him. He knows the end is coming, and he closes his eyes, so that grey becomes black and he can still feel the agony and hatred of war resonating in every fibre of his being -

He hears Kaecilius shout out in pain and Mind becomes his own again. 

‘’I’d keep a tighter grasp on that, if I were you,’’ Loki drawls, looking for all intents and purposes as if he didn’t just hit Kaecilius in the head. ‘’You’re closing yourself off, but that’s not enough. Keep Mind all to yourself, if you don’t want to give him any more access. He’ll use it against you.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ Stephen says in more a whisper than anything else, and the tremble in his hands might be gone again, but now it’s in his voice.

Loki raises two long and intricately decorated knives as Kaecilius manages to get up from the ground, glaring at him. 

‘’You!’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’Asgardian _seidr_ is no match against true Mastery!’’

Loki smiles - lethal, sharp, and then there’s a dozen of him surrounding Kaecilius. It doesn’t seem to bother the sorcerer, and Stephen takes the moment to regain his fallen sword and scramble up. His head pounds with every movement, but he’d rather live than allow Kaecilius to fell him again without lifting a finger.

‘’Are you sure you want to test that?’’ Loki asks, his voice repeated in all his clones, and Kaecilius surrounds himself with a pulse that unravels the trick Loki pulled. Only one of him remains, but Loki is quick and agile, and with his two knives he’s like a force of nature.

Stephen joins him, making sure to shield himself better this time, and with Loki by his side, Kaecilius can’t overpower them as easily. Still, Kaecilius dances out of their way, far stronger than either of them. The ground shakes underneath them when he glowers, but Stephen holds steady, standing between Kaecilius and the shield.

‘’I will fight her,’’ Kaecilius says, and his calm is not fully gone, but it’s as if a pebble is rippling the water. ‘’Nothing you do will stop this. You only draw out the inevitable!’’

‘’We’ll see,’’ Stephen says, and Loki raises his knives. 

They are unfamiliar to each other’s fighting style, but that doesn’t matter - Loki is good at keeping Kaecilius contained with his magic and dancing out of his reach. Stephen thinks that he may not be able to win a battle in the Mystic Arts, but he can use it to boost his sword fighting skills to give him an edge. With Power on the tip of his fingers and Time in his veins, he is fast and strong.

Kaecilius is a good fighter, but against Stephen’s agile attacks and Loki’s whip-like movements, he has a hard time defending both sides. Stephen feints to the left, standing strong despite the crunched snow being slippery, just ready to attack Kaecilius’ unprotected side when Kaecilius throws his hands at the ground.

‘’ _Enough!_ ’’ he yells, and Stephen is thrown back as the ground underneath him spits him away. Trod-upon snow follows, icy, muddy and bloody, and Stephen sits up quickly to prevent an attack that isn’t coming. Loki is lying a few feet away, having been thrown against some soldiers and quickly rolling away. 

Stephen pushes away his opponents with Power and Loki jumps up, scowling in annoyance. 

‘’Brother!’’

Thor appears, massive and god-like as he ruthlessly pushes past the Menteri, almost striking off-handedly. His weapon is a hammer, blunt and powerful, and Stephen doesn’t doubt that he’s felled many enemies with it already.

‘’I have played around long enough,’’ Kaecilius says calmly. ‘’Enjoy your victory while it lasts. I have another errand.’’

With a snap of his fingers, Kaecilius disappears - he doesn’t need a portal, and Stephen forces himself to get up despite the weariness in his legs. The fall didn’t hurt him too badly, though he thinks he’ll have bruises on his back tomorrow.

If he still lives, tomorrow.

‘’The Ancient One,’’ he says, eyeing Thor and Loki gravelly. The brothers share a look.

‘’We can’t get there in time,’’ Thor says, ‘’and I fear that this may have to be a battle that she fights on her own for now. The shield can fall, but the soldiers will protect Ireningas with their last breath. There is honour in that, Master Strange.’’

‘’There’s no inherent honour in dying,’’ Loki mutters, but Thor ignores that.

‘’Another problem has arisen,’’ the older brother says instead. ‘’Two commanders have made their way onto the field, along with several strong fighters. We are having trouble holding our positions.’’

‘’Commanders?’’ Stephen demands. 

Thor nods.

‘’Traitors,’’ he says quietly. ‘’The King’s shield-brother, Stane, and the treacherous diplomat. They are obviously well-acquainted with your fighting tactics.’’

Stane and Killian. Stephen’s eyes widen - he hadn’t thought Stane would still go out on the field after his escape, though Kaecilius doesn’t seem the type to spare a useful man simply because he’d spent some weeks in a prison cell. And if the two men have anything in common -

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and raises his arm, feeling it tingle with Space as he maps out where he last saw the prince. 

‘’They’ll try to kill Tony.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, who hates writing fight scenes, writing one huge epic fantasy au with a huge ass battle as one of the most important parts of said au: _fun right_
> 
> not going to lie. part orange is the entire reason I'm taking forever to finish this fic, and also the thing that's coming after. I think I started this part around february...... well let's be honest covid is also not motivating me to write but also this fic has been kicking my ass for about 1.5 years now (has it been this long??? I _never_ take this long what happened to me) and it's all Dragon's fault. fortunately i think i'll be finished writing soon (now i said it i kinda have to because i can't make myself a liar, can i? someone tell me to finish this thing please) and maybe then finally i can churn out some other ironstrange content. time to stop rambling liz


	20. Orange / III

Tony can see him. Despite the vicious fighting around him, turning the once-white snow dark with stains and littering it with bodies, he can see him. How could he not? The figure is so familiar, astride on his horse, head held high and shoulders straightened like he taught Tony, when the prince was only a boy.

His mother had still been alive then, and Tony wonders how Obadiah Stane can live with himself, or if he simply had stopped to remember all the times that Maria offered him kindness and laughed. If Obadiah is even the same man as he was then.

But it doesn’t matter. Maria Stark has been dead for years, poisoned by her son’s godfather, the same man who now leads an army against her people. 

Tony kicks at a Menteri soldier coming a bit too near for his taste, who falls down with his hand grasping at the nearest thing. That’s another soldier, though it’s one of their own this time, and Tony kicks again, keeping his eyes out for any other enemy coming. They are being overrun - he is too far into the Menteri army with too few soldiers, but he just needs to put an end to this. He needs to find Stane and kill him. Not just for his own sake - to stop him from finding their weak spots and attacking.

It has nothing to do with his own personal feelings, except that it feels like his chest is burning. He clenches his sword as another Menteri swings his own at Tony’s neck, but Rhodey is ahead of him, meeting the enemy blade against blade.

The sky above him splits into blue, and Stephen jumps out. The sorcerer conveniently kicks down two Menteri soldiers, scrambling up with his sword held in front of him defensively. Rhodey pulls him back, standing closer, as one of the soldiers swings his sword blindly.

‘’You can’t just jump into battle like that,’’ Tony yells at Stephen, trying to get over the sounds of metal clanging and people crying. His chest still burns, hot-red and full of emotions he doesn’t have the time to name. ‘’You’re going to get yourself killed!’’

‘’We have to pull back!’’ Stephen yells back. ‘’They’re going to come after you, Tony! Stane and Killian aren’t going to stop until you’re dead!’’

‘’Let them try,’’ Tony says far too quietly for Stephen to hear, but he knows the sorcerer understood - it’s obvious in the way his eyes darken.

‘’I can’t protect both you and the shield!’’

‘’Then don’t!’’ Tony roars, and now it’s Stephen who pulls him back as a blast of purple sends their enemies flying back. The raw power radiating from Stephen is something Tony has only seen once before - in the courtyard, when he should’ve lost purple but didn’t. Now, it’s tinged with more desperation than aptitude, and Stephen grabs his arm so strongly that Tony thinks he could break the armour, if he’d wanted to.

‘’Together,’’ Stephen mouths, releasing him again, and while the sound is lost to the battlefield, Tony finds himself stilling. 

‘’Tony!’’ Rhodes cries out, his back to the pair. ‘’We’ve got to go back!’’

Tony doesn’t even have time to answer that before Stephen reacts; he throws a portal over the three of them, sending them to the outskirts of the battle, near the shield. Tony sags down at the odd feeling of being transported, weariness taking over his every bone. Rhodey catches his arm in reflex, keeping him upright. Tony straightens, forcing himself to forget about the heaviness of his own body and the armour protecting him. The sun has only just set, and this war has not been won.

Stephen’s gaze is turned towards the shield. ‘’Kaecilius is after her,’’ he says, and his voice sounds calm despite his words.

‘’If the shield falls, Ireningas falls,’’ Tony says, and winces at the roughness of his voice. The ache in his throat is nothing compared to the stinging of his chest, the Arc feeling cold and unnatural inside his skin. He raises his hand before letting it fall again, itching to be out of the armour.

‘’We aren’t going to hold,’’ Rhodes says, shoulders squared as he eyes Tony. ‘’Stane is punching holes in our defence, and now that sorcerer is on the field. We’re losing ground, and we’re losing it fast.’’

Another glimmer appears before them, and Tony reflexively raises his sword before Loki and Thor appear. No portals for the Asgardians, then, even as Loki pulls his brother along with a chagrined expression on his face.

‘’Strange,’’ Loki says. ‘’I’ve done what I can. The magic will not keep up for long - not with Kaecilius attacking it.’’

‘’We must strike back,’’ Thor booms. ‘’Return to the battlefield!’’

‘’Stephen,’’ Tony starts. Stephen turns to him, looking pinched and weary. Tony notes the slight tremor in his hands - but he holds steady. They all do, because there’s little else for it. ‘’I’m going with Thor and Rhodey to see if we can do something about Stane. You and Loki have to keep up the shield in any way you can.’’

It’s not an easy decision to make. Stane is a mortal man, and an aging man besides, for all his cunning. If Tony can get to him, he’s relatively certain he’ll be able to overpower him. The only problem is getting there, but with Thor and Rhodey by his side - well, they’ll make do. He can’t help but feel like he’s sending Stephen into mortal peril, however, with everything he’s heard about Kaecilius.

Then again, Stephen is his last chance. If that shield falls, they’re all as good as dead. The thought isn’t comforting at all, but Tony bites his lip as Stephen nods.

‘’I’ll send you to the outer part of the battle, so you can join easily,’’ Stephen says, and Tony wishes it was just the two of them, so Tony could ask him - what, to be careful? Not to die, if possible? Stephen knows, and so Tony straightens and turns towards the blue portal, stepping through.

Thor and Rhodey follow, and then the blue disappears, only leaving a grey and heavy world to surround him.

Tony tightens the grip on his sword, seeing the gold and red taint the obscurity of the battlefield. Blood stains it, and the rest of his armour, but it’s still far brighter than it has any right to be. Tony looks ahead again, seeing a familiar figure up ahead, just as grey as the clouds.

‘’Are we ready to kill a traitor?’’ Tony asks.

Thor raises his hammer, and Rhodey steps beside him, tension crackling.

‘’Let’s go,’’ Rhodey says.

~*~

‘’We’re going to lose,’’ Loki says, and frowns to the distance. ‘’You sent him to his death.’’

Stephen ignores it, keeping up a shield of his own while he and Loki move through the fighting armies with relative ease. He pushes aside both friend and foe, but at this point, everyone standing in their way is merely an obstruction. Not to victory, necessarily, but at least to making sure the city won’t get overrun.

Absentmindedly, he thinks about the courtroom, and how the intruders broke the stained glass. They have already reached the heart of Ireningas, in a way, the thing that unites Sanctum and Kingdom. But stained glass can be remade, he reminds himself, replaced and its original forgotten. The same thing doesn’t go for humans.

‘’He sent us to our death, too,’’ Loki continues. ‘’Rather rude of him.’’

‘’You should stop talking and continue fighting,’’ Stephen grits out, pushing more soldiers out of this way. It would’ve been easier to use a portal, but then there’s the chance that Kaecilius snuffs it out of existence. If Stephen and Loki are mid-portal when that happens, it won’t be pretty. Besides, he doesn’t know exactly where Kaecilius is. 

The truth is - Loki is probably right. Stephen had sent Tony to his death in dealing with Stane, even if the prince seemed to ignore it. There’s too many men protecting the man that once served the King - too many for a group of three, no matter how skilled. Some odds are simply too unfeasible.

‘’There he is,’’ Loki says suddenly, and leaves the protection of Stephen’s shield to dart forward. Stephen sees it a second later, the lanky and agile form of Kaecilius so very close to the borders of the shield, his hands raised towards it. No colours, grey or otherwise, come from his fingers, and Stephen holds his breath.

Loki tackles into the sorcerer, knives raised and teeth bared, and Kaecilius gets him off with a blast.

Stephen steps beside him, suspending Time as he slows Loki’s fall, saving him from possibly breaking his neck or anything else vital. Even as he does so, Kaecilius straightens and glares at him.

‘’You do have a death wish, don’t you, boy?’’ he asks, and now he raises his hands towards him. 

The Ancient One stands a little further away, but he can see her, suddenly. She does not look towards him at all, her hands raised, her mouth moving like she is praying to something beyond the Mystic Arts - something beyond her control.

Stephen raises his sword. If Tony has sent him to his death, Stephen will accept it - not graciously, but fighting and snarling every step of the way. 

Kaecilius shakes his head at him. Light appears at the tips of his fingers, and Stephen readies himself to fight any spell that can be thrown at him. Loki is on the floor, half-raised on his knee, his hands raised equally.

A rumble shakes the ground, and for a moment, Stephen thinks it’s over. Kaecilius is far more powerful than he is, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the earth from thundering beneath him or the snow from falling. These are limitations of all the Mystic Arts - at least, the ones that he knows.

One look at Kaecilius’s face brings back hope, and Stephen whips towards the shield. Where once the Ancient One stood, all alone with a solemn expression on her face, now she is surrounded by a dozen portals.

Wong has raised his arms, like a warrior welcoming his home, and Stephen can only watch in awe as soldiers stream out of the portals. A man rides before them on a horse blacker than a moonless night, a man with only one eye and black armour, dirty with dust.

King Nicholas.

‘’Attack!’’ he roars, louder than even the cries from the battlefield, and the men coming from the portals run. The shield lets them pass from their side, and Stephen takes a step back as Kaecilius disappears in a portal.

‘’Ah,’’ Loki says appreciatively. ‘’The tides turn.’’

‘’Not yet,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Kaecilius will still attack the shield. Stane and Killian are still attacking our men.’’

‘’Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pessimist?’’ Loki asks, and laughs as the soldiers from Skida run past them and into the fray. 

Stephen takes the moment, too, allowing himself to feel a flicker of hope. A portal appears beside him, and Wong appears beside him, as immaculate as ever as his own cloak whips around in the wind.

‘’You were nearly too late,’’ Stephen says, but clasps the man’s shoulder. ‘’Thank you, Wong. Thank you.’’

Wong frowns. ‘’I’m never late,’’ he says, as if the notion is absurd. ‘’It took a while to locate the Skidian King and his army, and then it took me some time to convince them of travelling by portal. I have brought you some old allies, as well.’’

Three Knights step through the portal as well, after which it disappears. ‘’Look who’s still alive!’’ Knight Barton proclaims, grinning as he pats his bow. Romanoff elbows him, while Rogers just shakes his head.

‘’We need to protect the King,’’ Rogers says. ‘’Where is he?’’

‘’Oh, don’t worry about the King.’’ Loki points to the edge of the shield, where a small skirmish is going on. The Menteri are far outnumbered in that corner, guards and Knights not letting them through. Howard Stark is in the middle, too important to send further into battle. 

‘’And the prince?’’ Romanoff asks in a steel voice.

‘’Trying to get to Stane,’’ Stephen says, and before they can ask, ‘’It’s a long story. He’s with Thor and Rhodes, but they won’t make it that far beyond enemy lines. I can send you near him - to protect him.’’

‘’Sounds fun,’’ Barton says. ‘’We can get some action fighting Stane. Far better than a trial for that man, I’m telling you.’’

‘’Better get on with it,’’ Loki says impatiently, and snaps his fingers in the direction of the Knights. Barton and Romanoff scowl as they disappear, but Stephen doesn’t have time to care about Loki’s unconventional ways of doing magic. He turns to Wong instead.

‘’Kaecilius is trying to destroy the shield,’’ he says. ‘’We have to protect the Ancient One.’’

‘’Kaecilius doesn’t care about the shield,’’ Wong states, crossing his arms. ‘’He cares about getting his justice - he wants to kill her and to make Veston suffer. He won’t let them into Ireningas until she is dead.’’

‘’That’s the only way they’ll get into the city,’’ Loki mutters, but he stands ready. 

‘’The Ancient One is the only one who can face Kaecilius,’’ Wong says. ‘’The shield has to fall before she can face him. We have to make sure the rest of the battle is won so they can’t get into Ireningas after, no matter what happens, or we must hold the shield ourselves.’’

‘’That was not the plan,’’ Stephen says. Wong just shrugs.

In Loki’s palm, a fire shines. Stephen can’t see it beyond the paleness of the flame, but there’s no orange coming from it. It must be another colour, then, and he wonders which one it is.

‘’Ready, sorcerers?’’ Loki asks, and then he’s off.

Stephen can do little but follow, feeling his dirtied cloak whip around his ankles. Loki is a whirlwind in battle, but Stephen matches him stride for stride. It’s almost a battle between them, Loki’s laughter louder than the screams of Veston and Menteri men, and he seems like a god, unbothered by the death of those beneath him. Maybe it doesn’t matter as much when you’re fighting someone else’s war, with none of your own people dying. Maybe it’s just the way Loki is.

Stephen strengthens his resolve as he follows, his energy nearly limitless as the spells keep pouring out of his trembling fingertips. Colour, invisible to him, runs along the lines of his sword even as he cuts down enemies, trying to mouth prayers that he didn’t learn as well as he learnt to fight.

They get to the shield. The forces of Skida have long dissipated into battle, but Stephen can still see King Nicholas, fighting ahead of Howard. Two women are by his side, fighting furiously, reminding him of Romanoff. 

On the safe side of the shield, the Ancient One stands alone. On the other side, Kaecilius stands, like a predator trying to gauge when to jump its prey, and Stephen fears.

Wong appears beside him, expression a perpetuous frown. ‘’The shield is still up.’’

‘’Can we hold it if she lets it go?’’ Stephen asks, seeing the doubt in Wong’s face. ‘’With the three of us -’’

‘’Of course,’’ Loki drawls, twirling one of his knives almost lazily. 

Stephen eyes Wong instead. ‘’We must try,’’ Wong says eventually. ‘’We are no strangers to Power, Master Strange. If we hold fast, then so will the shield.’’

And with one finger, he touches it. Immediately, it ripples - ripples, ripples, and disappears.

Wong pulls at Stephen, and a haze appears before his eyes as he instinctively drops his sword to throw up his hands. He is on the safe side of the shield now, Wong and Loki two solid figures beside him, six hands all that is keeping Ireningas from an army that would ruin their home.

On the other side, Kaecilius pounds.

~*~

‘’Rhodey!’’

Tony is lost in a sea of grey, and for a split second, he thinks this is how Stephen must feel - this darkness, this lack of colour or light, and he can’t distinguish one set of armour from the next and he can’t breathe over the sound of metal -

‘’Prince!’’ 

A hand pulls him back, but Tony fights against who’s touching him, because Rhodey is gone in a flurry of activity. For a moment, he’s concerned that it’s actually Tony who has gone and died, because Clint is staring at him, and Clint’s not here. But then Thor’s face appears behind him, and Thor was still alive, last thing Tony knew, so somehow, they’ve all survived so far, and are now here, in between hoarse screams and clashes of steel and flesh.

‘’We’ll get Rhodes,’’ Romanoff says, and her short hair whips in the wind, a blast of colour in an otherwise relentless grey. Tony can’t speak as Clint pulls him back once more, and she and Steve Rogers disappear into the battle.

‘’Are you injured?’’ Clint asks, more down-to-business than Tony has ever heard him before, and he can only shake his head before the Knight of Vice is drawing arrows faster than Tony has ever seen him do before. Gone is the merriness in his expression, the easy-going tilt of his lips - now, he is a warrior, and Tony can only stare before he remembers that he is the prince, and he is fighting, and lifting his sword he turns around to have the archer’s back, next to Thor.

He can see Romanoff and Rogers from far away - they make a good team, and Clint is doing a good job of keeping stray soldiers from their path, even as Rogers throws Romanoff over a row of soldiers. Tony can’t see Rhodey, but his Knights obviously know what they’re doing, their every movement precise and with an aim in mind.

‘’We have to join them,’’ Clint says eventually, not even pausing as he shoots off another arrow. The stack on his back is slowly disappearing, only a few arrows left, but it doesn’t seem to stop him. ‘’They’ll find Rhodey, but we have to make our way to Stane. That’s what you’re doing, right?’’

‘’I need to kill him,’’ Tony says, and Clint offers only a single nod.

‘’We’re good at fighting, Tony,’’ Clint says, and it’s the first time Tony remembers the Knight using his first name, ‘’but we’re even better at avenging. You think you want to join us?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Tony says. ‘’Yes.’’

‘’And so will I,’’ Thor says grimly.

Clint switches to a sword, having run out of arrows, and Tony stands next to him as they make their way to where the other Knights are. Romanoff is more recognizable than most, and she offers him a wry grin even as her knives keep moving. Rhodey is beside her, battered but alive, and Tony wishes he could keep them all that way.

‘’Stane’s coming closer,’’ Clint says, first thing. Rogers just nods, taking a step back to assess the situation, the shield Tony gave him in Menteri held loosely in his right hand, the left one hovering over his eyes to make him see.

‘’We have to meet him head-on,’’ the Knight says, his voice not even wavering. ‘’He already knows we’re coming, so we have to be the strongest we are. Are you ready, Knights and princes?’’

Tony fastens his hold on his sword. He can’t even remember how many people have already died today; how many are _his_ , for better or worse. But if there’s any death today, it should be Stane’s - the traitor, the man who made him an orphan in all the ways that matter, who stole his mother’s life and his father’s trust and Tony’s childhood.

‘’No,’’ he says. ‘’Today, we are Avengers.’’

~*~

Clashes of flares light up the sky, until Stephen has to squint to even try and see. The Ancient One has danced her battle in the loneliest edges of the battlefield, meeting Kaecilius blow for blow. They move so fast that he has trouble understanding their spells, and this might be the most crippling part of losing colours - he can’t see what they are doing, how they are countering, what Aspects are playing a major role. All he can see is the effects, and he wonders if this is what it is like to have no magic at all - just to wonder, and not know what is truly going on.

But his own blood is straining, his Power pushing and pulling at the same time to keep a shield around Ireningas. From here, he can see the entire battle going on - if he tried, if he extended Mind, he could maybe even find Tony, if the prince still lives. 

That thought makes him look the other way, towards the Ancient One and Kaecilius. Apparently, that is the fight that makes Wong look away. ‘’Where is the king going?’’ the Master hisses through his strain.

‘’Away from the sorcerers,’’ Stephen realizes, following Wong’s eyes. The heated battle between the two sorcerers must have made the king uncomfortable - an actual battlefield with swords and shields makes more sense to him and his followers, even if it may not be the safest place to be. Besides, he doesn’t think Howard wanted to be kept safe at all, and now he’s finally broken through the vestiges of safety.

‘’Fool,’’ Loki spits, and even the firesure sorcerer has beads of sweat dripping down his face. The three of them still hold the shield, but only barely; the Ancient One, who has done it for hours and by herself, is the perfect picture of lethal grace, and Stephen thinks he understands.

Wong grunts, as if the shield is wearing on his shoulders. ‘’We have to assist the King.’’

The Ancient One moves out of the way and one of Kaecilius’ spells hit the shield. It explodes and Stephen can feel the Power weakening. They defeated Kaecilius’ shield by viciously attacking it at the same place continuously, but the force of Kaecilius’ hit already sends them stumbling.

‘’Go protect the King, Wong,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Loki and I will try to hold the shield, and otherwise assist the Ancient One in her fight. We can’t keep it up forever, but the King has to be safe.’’

Wong hesitates for a moment but then drops the shield. His heavy part pushes Stephen further in snow that has already flattened under the boots of Skida’s soldiers. He grits his teeth, as Wong touches the shield and allows himself through. He disappears within a portal, and Stephen can’t permit himself to wonder about the battle as he turns back to watch his mentor.

The Ancient One is ferocious in battle like he has never seen her before, but Kaecilius does not hold back. They move fluidly, a two-man war being fought next to a battlefield, lethal and incomparable.

Loki makes a noise. ‘’We have to drop it soon, and she’s not winning.’’

‘’She will,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Hold it!’’

But the weight of Ireningas is on his shoulders, and Stephen is not sure how long he can carry it, either.

~*~

Room is left for them on the battlefield, the Menteri and Veston forces moving aside as Tony’s band of Knights reaches the empty spot. For the first time, they are not crying out in pain - weariness is on every face, but something else is about to happen here.

Obadiah enters the circle even as Tony does, still astride on a horse that seems to be limping more than it is walking. 

‘’My boy,’’ Obadiah says, and his eyes glint. 

‘’Traitor,’’ Tony says evenly. ‘’You will die today for poisoning my mother and plotting against my father. Our kingdom will be avenged.’’

‘’I do not think so.’’ Obadiah’s horse comes closer, the man towering over the group, but no one moves. ‘’Look around you. Does it look like you’re winning? No, Tony, I’m afraid not. Today, Veston loses.’’

Rhodey steps beside him, sword raised. Tony follows his lead, and Obadiah just shakes his head, taking one step back and whistling. 

The circle is broken as soldiers move forward, but Tony surges forward, not losing his focus on Obadiah. The Knights follow him, and Thor jumps, taking down Obadiah’s horse. Obadiah falls to the ground, but Tony can’t reach him before a Menteri appears before him, and forces him back. Rogers leaps forward, but all Tony can see is the silver of his shield before the Knight turns back to him.

‘’Alright?’’ he asks, keeping up his shield above them.

‘’Yeah,’’ Tony croaks. ‘’Let’s get Stane.’’

Steve smiles, a split-second weary tilt of his lips, and helps him up. They are surrounded by allies, here, and Tony has a moment to catch his breath. Stane is still nearby, and he starts again, this time with Steve and Rhodey by his side while the others deal with any nearby soldiers.

Stane’s sword is large and impressive, twice the size of Tony’s, and he heaves it towards Tony’s neck. Raising his own sword, he blocks the attack just in time and instinctively takes a step back. Metal hisses as Tony succeeds in parrying, and now Obadiah has to defend, especially as he has to duck out of Rhodey’s way.

Obadiah might be strong, but Tony is quick and nimble, and he’s been waiting to end this. Steve kicks down Obadiah, and he falls back, and Tony hits hard enough that the man’s sword falls to the ground. It is almost too fast - Obadiah looks up at him, dark and blood staining his teeth, and growls almost inhumanely.

There are no words that need to be said. Tony just offers him a final glance, rises his sword for Obadiah’s final moment, and -

Agonizing pain shoots through his abdomen. Obadiah’s right hand draws back, and a small knife falls to the ground. 

‘’Tony!’’ Rhodey calls out, turning to him whip-fast, but then he’s gone, and Tony falls to the ground even as he holds his hand pressed to his injury. He only just manages to hold onto his sword as something escapes him.

‘’It can’t be,’’ Steve whispers, and the only reason Tony hears him is because all sounds of the battlefield seem muted, and his world is restricted to the two men beside him. Rhodey grunts in pain and gets up, his hands blindly reaching for Tony until they get each other up.

Obadiah has scrambled back, still scowling. Another man is beside him, vaguely familiar to Tony; he wears all black, but his arm shines the same silver as Steve’s shield, the red anvil of Skoltia marring it. His sword is black, even the blade, but traces of purple run over the handle, and all Tony can think is that this is no ordinary soldier.

‘’Is that Barnes?’’ Rhodey says, and he’s still holding on to Tony, and Tony can’t think straight. He’s still standing, he’s still holding his sword, and the injury of Obadiah’s knife doesn’t seem lethal, so all in all, it’s more than he could expect. But still - Obadiah is now under the protection of someone who, if memory serves him correctly, is a Knight of Vice that has been long presumed dead.

‘’Bucky,’’ Steve whispers, and his shield loosens in his hold, and Tony will have them all survive this day even if it kills him.

‘’Rogers,’’ he snaps. ‘’Steve, c’mon, we’ve got to get to Stane!’’

‘’It’s Bucky!’’ Steve is yelling, now. ‘’I’ve got to - Bucky, you know me! It’s me, it’s Steve!’’

‘’Who?’’ Barnes asks, his voice low, and raises his sword.

Tony is pulled back by Rhodey forcefully, which jars his injury, but his pain seems to fade to the background as he takes in the situation. ‘’Rogers!’’ he yells, but Steve doesn’t hear him, fixated on his old friend. 

‘’The King!’’ he can hear, suddenly, and it feels like everyone on the battlefield turns into a single direction. ‘’The King is coming!’’

‘’Soldier!’’ Stane snaps, and Tony reels back. He can’t have his father face Stane and this soldier - his father has to live, if Veston is to be led, and he can’t allow Stane to take away another one of his parents. But Stane seems to have other ideas. ‘’Soldier, kill the King!’’

Barnes nods once and turns on his heels. 

‘’Rogers, stay here,’’ Tony snaps, but Steve turns back to look at him. There’s more determination in his eyes than Tony has ever seen; the shield shines its silver light, and Steve shakes his head and runs after Barnes.

‘’He’s going after the King!’’ Barton says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Romanoff smiles grimly and takes out two Menteri at once; she doesn’t need to be hidden, if she manages to defeat her enemies in plain sight. 

‘’I’m going after Barnes,’’ Tony says. ‘’Steve’s not going to kill him. Natasha, you’re coming with me. Thor, Rhodey, Clint, you’re going to have to kill Stane.’’

‘’Tony,’’ Rhodey says, a warning in his voice.

‘’That is an order.’’ Tony only watches his old friend as he falls silent, and then continues. ‘’This battle won’t be done until the King is safe and Stane is dead. Try to find Killian afterwards - he’s not as dangerous, but he still knows more than he should. I’ll see you after the battle - all of you.’’

There is no time for any goodbyes. Natasha is fast as a whip, even if she is protecting Tony most of the time. The two Knights and the prince of Asgard fight back towards Stane, and they’re quickly gone from Tony’s sight. Natasha is relentless even as she pushes forward, efficient yet brutal. Tony’s injury still stings, but he pushes past it to reach his father.

Howard is easy to get to, the closer they get. The Menteri soldiers become a majority of Veston ones surrounding his father, and yet Natasha does not slow her pace.

‘’If it comes down to it,’’ she says eventually, ‘’the King is my highest priority.’’

It means that she will protect Howard before she protects him. Tony inclines his head, even if she isn’t even looking at him. ‘’Yes.’’

She glances at him then, but Tony pushes past her when he sees Howard, on the ground and gasping in pain. Blood seeps from his leg. One of the sorcerers is near, either unconscious or dead - his red cloak is threaded with blue, and Tony thinks the man’s name was Wong.

Barnes and Steve are fighting, viciously, mercilessly - from Barnes’ side. Steve seems to be losing, shouting things that Tony can’t hear but can guess, keeping up his shield to protect himself and the King from Barnes’ intentions. Soldiers keep trying to attack Barnes from the side, but whatever has happened to the old Knight of Vice, it has turned him into a man capable of killing kings.

Romanoff throws herself into the battle, but Tony hurries towards the lines. He needs a sorcerer to stop Bucky, but there’s no one here, and he’s only just there when Steve gets thrown into him and he falls.

‘’You’ve got to kill him,’’ Tony begs, watching Barnes advance. Natasha is the only thing between the King and the Soldier, but Howard is still not getting up, and she’s only one Knight. He has her by the throat, ready to squeeze the life from her lungs, but she kicks him in his face and Barnes stumbles back, letting go of her.

‘’Bucky!’’ Steve roars, as if he’s not even listening to Tony, and he pushes him away when Tony reaches for him.

But Barnes looks towards Steve, almost as if he’s confused, and Natasha throws a knife towards the Soldier, aiming for the kill.

Steve furiously throws his shield, and the knife clutters to the ground.

Tony scrambles up. If Steve won’t allow Barnes to be killed, then at least he has to be stopped, and Tony -

Barnes kicks down Steve, picks up the shield and knife and aims for Natasha. She gasps as he throws her out of the way, her hand reaching for the King.

For a single instance, the two Knights are on the ground, and Tony is only halfway towards the surface. Soldiers are pushed out of the way until no one is left standing except Barnes, who’d once been loyal to Veston, and who’d once sworn his life to protect the King.

And Barnes kneels in front of Howard Stark, King of Veston, and without a single moment of hesitation, he plunges his knife into the King’s heart.

‘’No!’’ Tony yells. ‘’Dad!’’

Barnes rises again, leaving the knife in the King’s chest. The hilt doesn’t rise, and Tony screams, because Howard is larger than life, even if he’s old and frailing, and Kings aren’t killed by vicious beasts in battle. Except they are, and Tony is cold and angry and it’s not grief, because Howard can’t be dead, but it’s something in him that has died anyway.

He jumps to his feet, and Barnes turns to him. There is no compassion in his gaze; no regret; nothing at all.

‘’The King,’’ Rogers murmurs, and Tony wants to yell at him, because the Knight of Virtue is to blame, because he’d given Barnes the knife and the shield and his King on a platter, and now Howard’s chest is decorated with a hilt that’s still not moving.

He’d loved his father. He’d hated him, but he’d loved him, as well.

Natasha charges again, and she plants another knife in Barnes’ thigh, but he throws her off, and the shield skitters down next to her. She doesn’t go for him again, though, but she stands between Barnes and Tony, without a doubt and without fear. Steve stands next to her, but he’s more hesitant as he picks up the shield.

Tony cries out as he throws himself forward, past the two Knights, but Barnes outmanoeuvres him and hits him with the blunt part of his sword. The purple flashes before Tony’s eyes as he finds himself on the cold ground again, and he bites his tongue. Spitting out the blood, he tries to rise again, but Steve is between them now, his shield a barrier between Tony and the Soldier.

‘’No!’’ he yells out. ‘’Let me kill him! He killed my father! _I’m going to kill him!_ ’’

‘’Bucky,’’ Rogers says. ‘’Please. This isn’t you.’’

Barnes takes a step back, and Tony snarls, but Natasha pulls him back up and keeps him there. ‘’No,’’ she says, her voice hard. ‘’Tony, you’re going to get yourself killed.’’

‘’I don’t care,’’ Tony says, but she’s stronger than she looks, and he can’t move while she pulls at him.

‘’Steve,’’ Natasha says, but Rogers doesn’t look back.

‘’Please, Bucky.’’

Barnes looks them over. There’s still nothing close to an expression, but something shutters his eyes even further when he looks at Rogers.

‘’It doesn’t matter,’’ the Soldier says eventually. ‘’The prince will be dead before the sun sets.’’

Tony yells, and some of the soldiers around him are getting up, but Natasha and Steve aren’t moving, and Barnes backs away. It’s as easy as that, then - the King dead, mission accomplished.

‘’Let me go,’’ Tony snaps, and Natasha does. ‘’He killed my father, we have to -’’

‘’No,’’ Natasha says. ‘’My first priority is the King, Tony, I told you. That is you now, so you have to pull yourself together and lead your people. We can’t take Barnes with the three of us, not now.’’

Around them, the battle continues now. Menteri soldiers have broken their lines, courtesy of Barnes, and it won’t be long until the fighting reaches them again.

‘’I’m going after him,’’ Steve says suddenly.

‘’Steve -’’

‘’I hope you’ll be very happy together,’’ Tony snarls, but he is too exhausted to care about Steve anymore - he just wants to kill Barnes, and he drops to his knees next to his father’s body. Howard’s eyes have dulled to a lighter brown in death, and he seems more readable than he ever was in life. He seems afraid and in pain, and Tony can’t understand why it is said that dead people might as well be sleeping. Howard is pale and bloody and his expression is so unnatural - no part of him seems to be sleeping at all.

Natasha checks the sorcerer nearby, turning him over and shaking him awake. Tony doesn’t pay attention to the way the Master of Space sits up in confusion, his eyes resting on Howard Stark’s pale face, his gazeless stare. 

Wong still lives, but when Tony rests his finger on his father’s neck, there is nothing. He bows his head, the certainty of the King’s passing settling over him.

‘’The King is dead,’’ Natasha says hollowly, coming to stand beside him. ‘’Long live the King.’’

Tony kneels down as the prince of Veston, and rises as its King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and not take as long for the next one. oops. christmas and new years' made me lose track of time. anyway, let me know your thoughts!


	21. Orange / IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> local dumbass writer wanted to update an exact year after posting the first chapter 
> 
> have fun and don't forget to yell at the end of this chapter. I'd be delighted if you could share the yelling with me, by the way.

The fight goes wrong a second after Stephen senses that the Ancient One has made a wrong move. She sweeps to the right, gracious as a bird in flight, and her hand bathed in light, but Kaecilius is faster. He moves, and the ground lights up for a moment as if thunder has joined the battle - but he must be using Reality, for Stephen can’t fully see what he does - and then the Ancient One falls.

Kaecilius pushes, and Stephen can feel more than he can see the Ancient One impacting with the shield. It stutters, and he can feel his dread pick up as he struggles to keep the shield alive. 

‘’We have to help,’’ Stephen says. ‘’She’s going to die.’’

‘’Wait until he’s near her again,’’ Loki grits out. ‘’He’ll focus on her.’’

‘’It’ll be too late by then,’’ Stephen tells him. ‘’Drop it - three, two -’’

‘’No!’’ Loki yells, but Stephen has already dropped the shield, and Loki falls with the weight before the shield simply drops out of existence. He doesn’t wait for Loki to recover - Stephen creates a shield towards where the Ancient One fell, and he’s by her side in a second.

Loki appears beside him, dark hair sticking to his face, like his scowl. ‘’Strange -’’

‘’Wait,’’ the Ancient One says, and despite the blood on her face her voice is steady. She sits up so soon that Stephen almost doesn’t have time to lean back and give her space, but Kaecilius is already coming, grinning as if he’s already won.

She shields against another one of his blasts, but Loki is standing, and he’s not fully covered. He falls back, and Stephen looks back - he can’t tell if Loki is still alive, but he’s not getting up, and he almost wants to stand up and help when the Ancient One pulls him back.

‘’Master,’’ he starts, almost a question, but she closes her eyes, and she presses a thumb against his forehead. Stephen is too familiar with the rush of Time not to recognize it, but the Ancient One’s spell still feels energized and comfortably cool, and when Stephen looks around him no one is moving.

She snaps with her finger, and Kaecilius, at first an unmoving doll, is swept away, and then all is silent again.

‘’This moment,’’ she says quietly, ‘’is the one I’d hoped we got. Kaecilius thinks he has won, Stephen, and he thinks he knows us. In reality, Kaecilius only knows himself, and he reflects his own desires on us.’’

‘’You’re injured,’’ Stephen says, because none of that seems important now, except the way that the blood is quickly staining her robes even if she’s stopped Time. ‘’If you stop Time for yourself, maybe we can help you after the battle.’’

‘’There is no after the battle,’’ she interrupts him, and her fingers are bloody too, even if she runs them over Stephen’s face. ‘’Not for me. Stephen, you must listen. You will make decisions that are vital to this battle and to the future of this kingdom - for the entire world, even. Kaecilius is not meant to be defeated by you alone. Your strength is not your knowledge of the Aspects, even though you will need all of them to achieve what you need to achieve.’’

He can only watch her. ‘’I don’t have all Aspects,’’ he says eventually, because there’s nothing he can say to all else. 

She smiles knowingly. ‘’I will show you,’’ she says, and the world restarts around them, but faster than it should be. Kaecilius comes first, attacking them with spells, but the Ancient One is serene and her shield holds. He leaves, then, into the battle.

It’s the same thing Stephen did when Tony was missing - speeding up Time for clues. He can only watch the battle unfold, as Skida and Veston beat back the Menteri army. They are not close to the actual fighting, but the sun starts to set, and Stephen can’t believe it’s not even been a full day yet. The roars are too distant to feel real, but he watches, and watches death. 

Kaecilius is obviously making things hard for Veston, and Stephen winces every time he sees a blast of light coming from the soldiers’ side. Even outnumbered, Menteri manages to hold, though they don’t gain ground. It won’t matter much, if they kill enough soldiers.

But then Kaecilius comes back. He’s gotten a horse from somewhere, and there’s a body behind him, even as the last rays of light are barely enough to recognize him. Stephen recognizes him immediately.

‘’Tony,’’ he whispers, and his fingers touch the shield as if he would prefer to get near Tony, his perfect dark-haired prince, blood staining his face and his nose appearing broken. Tony isn’t breathing, he can see that from here, and his tan skin has gone ashen in death. 

‘’The Starks are dead,’’ Kaecilius says, and throws the body against the shield. Stephen holds his breath, and presses his forehead against the shield. It’s not real, none of it is real, but seeing Tony like this, like he never should have been - it’s worse than he had believed it ever could be. Even when Tony had been taken, even when he knew he had to send the prince into battle - the image of Tony, dead, hadn’t ever been like this. 

It’s not pretty, and it’s taking away Stephen’s ability to breathe, and he just wants to kill Kaecilius for this, even if it’s not real, not real - not yet, and Stephen won’t ever let it be, but it’s a possibility now more than ever, and Stephen will die himself before he will ever allow this.

‘’Stephen,’’ the Ancient One whispers.

‘’It is unavoidable,’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’I will make it so.’’

‘’No,’’ Stephen says, and then Time falls away to stand still again, and the sun moves back to where it was hours ago, and Tony isn’t a dead body in front of him. The armies move back, and Kaecilius is standing nowhere near them, and Stephen still breathes hard, his face still pressed against the shield.

‘’The King is dead,’’ the Ancient One says gravelly. ‘’The prince must live. The world is a cruel place, and it always has been, but you and Tony - that is the best possible future I have seen, Stephen. Tony has the ability to do _good_ , and so do you, and I will make it so.’’

‘’What are you doing?’’ Stephen asks, as she grasps at his cloak. It’s torn, and blood and dirt have settled in the fabric. 

‘’You will know what to do,’’ the Ancient One says, and closes her eyes. ‘’You know the consequences. I do trust you, Stephen. You will make a wonderful Sorcerer Supreme.’’

‘’Wait,’’ he says, realization dawning. ‘’Master, you can’t -’’

‘’Death is what gives life meaning,’’ she murmurs. ‘’It must seem like a foolish notion to you now, when death is surrounding us. But you will learn to see. You’ll learn.’’

Light is running through her veins, and she’s breathing hard. She is injured, yes, but not so critically that she would die right here and now. Stephen holds onto her, shaking. He just saw Tony dead, and he can avoid it, but he doesn’t know what she is doing now. 

‘’No,’’ he says uselessly, and it’s not a whisper or a scream - it’s a statement, but he has never really been able to argue with her, and apparently, she’s not about to let him now. She just smiles, even as a tear drops down her cheek, marred with blood. Her entire body is alight, moving towards her fingers where she is still holding his cloak. He can feel her energy moving, and he just holds her.

She stops breathing, and Time restarts. 

The shield falls away, and Stephen lets go of her. The Ancient One drops to the ground without him to hold her, and the graceless fall of her body almost startles him. But even without colours, he can see she is paler than she has ever been, and there’s nothing in her to make her who she is anymore.

He doesn’t know how long he sits on his knees, vaguely registering the shouts from far away, staring at the woman who mentored him for so long. It is too long, certainly, because he doesn’t even notice anything until he is being thrown back by a blast of light. He expects to feel the dirt again, melting snow against his cheek, but instead, there is only air when he lands.

Because he doesn’t land. Kaecilius is below him, but Stephen hovers in the air, his cloak holding him up and caressing his cheek almost like a parent, checking on a carefree child. Stephen blinks, and Kaecilius scowls.

‘’What did she do?’’ the sorcerer asks, eyeing Stephen as if he’s not certain what is going on. 

Stephen smiles wryly. The Ancient One is dead, but the traces of a smile are still around her lips. He has no idea what she did, but it seems she succeeded anyway.

‘’Let’s find out,’’ he says, willing himself to the ground again. His toes tip against the muddy snow, and he calms, even facing Kaecilius by himself.

He went up in the air as a simple sorcerer, but he reaches the ground as the Sorcerer Supreme.

~*~

The sun is nearly setting. It’s blinding in the sky, almost red and surrounded by pink clouds. Tony blinks against it, and he doesn’t even care that he cannot see what he is doing. By now, his movements are on repeat - slash, kick, move. 

Natasha is by his side, deadly and quick, and he’s sure she keeps him from dying on the battlefield multiple times. Wong is on the other side, moving steadily and surely. It doesn’t matter - Tony is hollow, and his mind is still where he left his father’s body. His heart beats and rages, and he can’t muster any sympathy for the Menteri army.

His father is dead. His father is dead. He is well and truly an orphan.

‘’My King,’’ Wong says, and it’s only when he takes Tony by the shoulder that he cares to stop and listen. ‘’My King, the shield!’’

Tony turns towards where the shield is - or rather, was, or maybe - is supposed to be? He frowns as he sees a purple blast light up the sky, a myriad of colours meeting it like thunder.

‘’We have to help,’’ he says, before he can even think it through. ‘’That is where the true battle lies, now.’’

‘’I agree,’’ a new voice says, coming from behind. Tony whips towards it, his sword at the ready, but he drops it when he sees the King of Skida. Somewhere, the man lost his horse, but he is still as imposing as ever. His soldiers now round up to protect them, and Tony can feel Natasha’s tense body relaxing slightly near him.

‘’King Nicholas,’’ he says.

The King inclines his head in greeting. ‘’King Anthony, if I’m not mistaken,’’ he says, and maybe there’s a hint of grief in there, but it’s overshadowed by the practicality that battle makes necessary. 

‘’You are not,’’ Tony murmurs, and he can’t even tell if Nicholas heard him, but the King certainly understood him well enough.

‘’I saw Knight Rogers hunting the Winter Soldier,’’ he continues brusquely. ‘’I sent two of my best soldiers with him. Peggy and Sharon will not fail, and your father’s murderer will be captured. Our task, now, is to make sure your city will remain standing even if your sorcerer fails.’’

‘’She will fight until the end,’’ Wong interrupts, steel in his voice. Nicholas eyes him.

‘’Our task is to make sure that her end does not equal Veston’s end, Master Sorcerer,’’ he says. ‘’The Menteri know where to strike hardest, and they _will_. Your forces must protect Ireningas if it comes to it, Anthony - mine will do their best on the battlefield.’’

Tony knows what he must do, then. He turns to Natasha. ‘’Get back to the others,’’ he says. ‘’It doesn’t matter if they’ve found Stane or not. We will take out Kaecilius first. Wong, go with her - if you find them, create a portal to the Sorcerer Supreme. We’re going to help her defeat him.’’

Natasha crosses her arms. ‘’What about you?’’ she demands.

‘’I’ll send one of my mages with him,’’ Nicholas says, and gestures. One of the men behind him steps forward - he seems like an ordinary soldier, except he’s wearing a little less armour. His brownish curls are unprotected, and he shuffles nervously on his feet even as he bows before Tony.

All in all, he doesn’t look like a mage. He looks like a philosopher or a Treasurer.

‘’What’s your name?’’ Tony asks him, before Natasha can interfere on his behalf. 

The man shrugs. ‘’Bruce Banner,’’ he says, smiling like he’s the only one in on a joke. ‘’But most people just call me Hulk.’’

‘’I wonder why _that_ is,’’ Natasha mutters behind him.

‘’A word of warning - don’t make him angry,’’ Nicholas says, and turns away already. ‘’You won’t much like it when he’s angry. Good luck, Anthony. I’ll see you on the other side.’’

Tony doesn’t have any time to think about it, or watch the other King return to the battle. 

‘’You ready?’’ he asks Banner, and the soldier nods timidly. He snaps his fingers, and at once, Tony can see why he doesn’t need that much armour. Magic courses in his veins, making him a vessel for its power. It makes his skin green and sickly, but when he looks up, his eyes shine a brighter green than Tony has ever seen.

Banner jumps, and with a single punch on the ground, a row of soldiers go flying. Tony winces when he sees a few of their own go - but at least the majority are Menteri. He turns back to Natasha and Wong, enjoying the baffled look on their faces.

‘’I think I’ll be fine,’’ he says. ‘’Get the others.’’

Wong and Natasha disappear in a flash of blue, faster than Tony has ever seen portals being made. Banner is ahead of him already, but he looks back, and even from that distance, the light in his eyes is astonishingly bright.

‘’Princeling coming!’’ he snaps, and Tony starts running.

Banner throws a few more soldiers into the air. Tony grins. At this rate, they’ll be at the shield in minutes. His father won’t have died for nothing.

Tony will make it so.

~*~

Stephen is invigorated with power. It is as if all Aspects surround him, now, and he can draw on them as easily as he breathes. His cloak is a lively thing of itself, drawing him up in the air when he needs to evade Kaecilius’ spells and pulling him forward. Something Mystic has made it this way, and Stephen doesn’t have time to linger on it, but he knows the Ancient One has done something irreversible in her last act.

Kaecilius is a flash of annoyed concentration, and Stephen has trouble meeting all his strokes. Fortunately, Kaecilius is unable to keep him under any spell. It makes for a brutal fight, spells lighting up the air, brighter than the setting sun, painting the sky orange.

The cloak lifts him off his feet again when Kaecilius sends a particularly vicious spell his way, scorching the ground underneath him. Stephen comes down, first creating a shield and then forcing it towards Kaecilius in a blast. Kaecilius holds it back - for a moment, it’s a stalemate, both of them pushing and neither of them winning. Stephen grits his teeth, feeling the blood in his mouth from having been pushed around one time too many, and ignores the trembling in his hands.

There is only a roar before Kaecilius is swept off his feet by a huge man, only half-armed. Stephen can sense the magic pouring off of him, and he startles as the man-animal lets out a victorious growl, turning towards him.

He raises his hands, uncertain about the allegiance of this… man.

‘’He’s on our side!’’ Tony says, appearing behind the monster. He sounds out of breath, like he’s been running, but he grins when he looks at his companion. ‘’Stephen! This is Bruce Banner, or the Hulk. He’s helping.’’

Stephen exhales and lets his hands fall down, taking in Tony. He seems rattled but otherwise fine, except for where his armour is broken near his abdomen. He furrows his brow and takes a few steps forward. ‘’Are you injured?’’ he demands.

Tony glances down. ‘’Oh. That. Stane’s doing. Look, we’re here to help the Ancient One. We’ve got to make sure Kaecilius can’t get into Ireningas.’’

‘’What do you think I’m doing?’’ Stephen asks in exasperation, and looks over his shoulder towards where Kaecilius was punched. The sorcerer is slowly getting up, and Stephen needs to be ready. ‘’The Ancient One is dead, Tony. It’s up to us now. Where’s Wong? He needs to convince the King that -’’

‘’Yeah, that’s not going to work,’’ Tony interrupts him, and looks beyond Stephen, raising his sword. ‘’Back-up is coming, but for now, it’s just us.’’

Stephen turns so that his shoulder touches Tony’s. The contact is hindered by their grimy armour, but the touch is relieving nonetheless. Kaecilius has risen from the ground, and Stephen can feel the Mystic Arts surround him as well, pooling around him like a hurricane.

‘’At least we have the Hulk,’’ he says faintly. The man in question lets out a roar again, and pounds on Kaecilius.

‘’Worth more than an army,’’ Tony agrees.

It all goes in a blur, after that. Kaecilius’ power grows, and he throws off the Hulk, confusing him with Reality. For all that the Hulk is a source of power, his mind lacks under his strength. Stephen stands ready, unable to help the creature as he prepares for his own attack. He has to make sure Kaecilius won’t kill Tony - and in a way, that’s only going to make this fight harder.

He shields Tony with Power even as Kaecilius strikes, a predatory glint in his eyes that shapes his entire facial expression into one of angry greed. Tony isn’t deterred, however; he steps out of the sorcerer’s way nimbly. Even if he can’t touch Kaecilius, he can certainly help to distract him.

Stephen throws more Power at him, but it’s weakened now he’s protecting Tony as well. Kaecilius takes apart the spell and throws it at the ground, sending muddy snow over them. Stephen steps away, but Kaecilius reaches him first, and Stephen is reminded of how his mind felt, so dark and agonizingly hungry for more, always more -

‘’I will kill him before your eyes,’’ Kaecilius hisses, grabbing him by his neck, and the intricate patterns and cracks among his eyes flash brightly with light, ‘’and the world will be made right again - given to creatures stronger than you, who are deserving of this power!’’

Stephen chokes, unable to think of a single spell that Kaecilius wouldn’t be able to block, and his vision starts going dark before the cloak slips from his shoulders and viciously attacks Kaecilius.

‘’Tony!’’ Stephen yells when Kaecilius curses at the cloak and throws it off of him. The cloak slips to the nearby prince, lifting him up before either sorcerer can reach him.

To his credit, Tony only lets out a small huff of air in surprise. ‘’I’ve seen weirder things today,’’ the prince says, and throws himself at Kaecilius, sword-first.

Kaecilius raises his hands to hit Tony away, but Stephen uses Space to throw off his aim. Tony falls, but Kaecilius is quick enough to step out of the way, aiming at Stephen again.

‘’You’re not going to win this fight,’’ Stephen says loudly, and the cloak settles on his shoulders again.

‘’Neither will you!’’ Kaecilius says.

A portal appears. Wong steps through first, hands up in a combative position, and several Knights follow him. Barton comes first, nothing left of his usual demeanour as he aims a steely gaze towards Kaecilius. Romanoff, prince Thor and Rhodes follow, all moving in position to surround the sorcerer without a word.

‘’I guess we do, though,’’ Tony says brightly. 

‘’Strange can’t defeat me,’’ Kaecilius snaps. ‘’You don’t see, do you? She wanted him to be stronger than her in every way - she wanted him to defeat me, because she couldn’t. But none of you will ever be stronger!’’

‘’You’re surrounded,’’ Rhodes says, and lifts his sword to aim right at Kaecilius. ‘’Call down your forces and surrender.’’

But Stephen can sense it. Kaecilius will not give up - there is no reason for him to. He wanted to destroy Veston, and he still can. He won’t walk away from it himself, but he has been poisoned, somehow, and Stephen can feel the raw power from him.

‘’Wait -’’ Wong says, and Stephen senses it too.

He snaps his fingers, and Time stops.

Kaecilius’ lips curl up, and he stares at him. ‘’Truly a fine trick,’’ he says. ‘’You’ve Mastered a great many Aspects, but you’re fondest of Time, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s a good Aspect to have,’’ Stephen says, and regards Kaecilius. Rhodes is frozen next to him, his sword’s edge still near Kaecilius’ neck, but it’s almost like he’s a puppet when frozen in time. All of them are vulnerable like this, but Stephen’s hold on Time is strong, and he won’t let them be harmed in the bubble he created.

‘’It is,’’ Kaecilius agrees. ‘’It is not enough to keep you from losing. I can still destroy everything right now, and you can’t keep Time like this forever. You will still have lost, Strange, don’t you see it? Even if you turn back Time to the moment you got me here, on my knees, you’ll always have lost.’’

‘’But I can lose,’’ Stephen says, ‘’as long as you don’t win. You can spell the entire kingdom to be destroyed, if you’ve got the power, but it’s never going to go past this moment. You’ll destroy yourself for nothing, and I’ll find a way to keep you here, at this moment, forever, until you decide that your life is worth more than whatever you’re trying to achieve here.’’

Kaecilius looks at him. He looks like an old man, like this, just as weary as Stephen is. ‘’A stalemate, then,’’ he says tonelessly. ‘’Not an outcome I’ve seen before - and I’ve watched this day a lot.’’ 

‘’You should familiarize yourself with Agamotto’s story,’’ Stephen says humourlessly, but Kaecilius still laughs.

‘’The old fool who believed he’d change his world for the better and changed it wrong,’’ he says. ‘’Yes, but I’m not like him. If anything, you’re trying to save your love’s life with Time. It’s not me who is similar to Agamotto.’’

And the world explodes, fire and agony snapping at every single one of Stephen’s atoms -

‘’Wait -’’ Wong says, and Stephen snaps his fingers again.

‘’Did you really need to do that?’’ he asks in annoyance, still feeling the phantom pain crawl over his skin.

Kaecilius shrugs. ‘’I needed to see if you’d follow up on your threat, didn’t I?’’ he asks, as if he hadn’t destroyed everything nearby with a single spell. 

‘’It is going to be a long forever if you insist on doing this,’’ Stephen says. ‘’I’m doing this to bargain.’’

Kaecilius’ lips twist again and the world disappears.

‘’Wait -’’ Wong says, and Stephen snaps his fingers.

‘’Really,’’ he says flatly. ‘’You are that unwilling to give up your dream of power?’’

‘’I simply have a goal that trumps yours, Master Strange,’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’I am not willing to negotiate terms. Your bargain means nothing to me.’’

Stephen closes his eyes when the agony starts over again, and all he can see in the far distance is the fire of dusk, the sky painted orange by a sun that will, as far as Stephen is concerned, never stop setting.

At least there’s a colour to watch when Kaecilius destroys them both time and time again.

~*~

‘’Are you ready to bargain?’’ is the first thing that Stephen asks now, weary but consistent, when he snaps. He is sitting down now, opposite Kaecilius.

Kaecilius is no less annoyed. ‘’There is no bargain,’’ he reminds Stephen again, but at least he leaves some time between destroying their world. Stephen can only imagine he feels equally enthusiastic about the pain that flashes up each time, even if it lasts for less than a second. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but it’s been some time. It’s hard to measure when Time has stilled, but the sky is still orange, and the cloak seems restless on Stephen’s shoulders. The Knights and Tony around them are like figurines now, and Stephen hardly dares to look at Tony. He finds something new to look at each time he does, underneath the blood and grime, and when this is over, he’s going to tuck the prince into bed and join him to sleep for a week, minimum.

‘’Have you ever been told how Agamotto’s tale continues?’’ Kaecilius suddenly says, and Stephen blinks.

‘’There is no continuation,’’ Stephen says. ‘’He buried the family of the girl he would’ve loved and disappeared. That is how it ends.’’

‘’And so I thought, when I first heard it at Kamar-Taj,’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’But there is an alternate ending. Agamotto refused to give up, because his love had never lived, but there was a world in which she had. He went to look for the secret that could make people live. He went to what is considered Asgard now. The legend says there are golden apples there that give the Aesir their power - it makes them gods, and the kings are their descendants. The apples grew in a tree that came from a pool, and it is said that the pool contains all their wisdom, and the tree resembled the world. Agamotto went there to seek the Aspect of Life.’’

‘’Soul,’’ Stephen says. ‘’It can’t be learnt.’’

‘’No, but that is how we know it exists,’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’The legend says that Agamotto failed to Master Soul and took his own life in the pool. His life sticks to the tree, now, and is always connected to the apples, and therefore, to Soul. In a way, he got exactly what he wanted.’’

‘’Still a cautionary tale,’’ Stephen notes. ‘’He sought power beyond what he could achieve and he died for it. I wouldn’t call it noteworthy, would you?’’

Kaecilius smiles. ‘’I always call it noteworthy when someone does what hasn’t been done before,’’ he says, and the world goes up in agony again.

‘’Wait -’’ he can hear Wong say, and Stephen snaps his fingers again, ignoring the nausea that creeps through his body.

‘’Are you ready to bargain?’’ he asks, and can’t help the note of vexation that creeps into his tone. 

‘’You are an odd one, Master Strange,’’ Kaecilius says. ‘’Everyone claims to sacrifice in life, but few actually do.’’

‘’It’s not my life at stake,’’ Stephen says. ‘’I told you, I can suffer. I can lose, time and time and time again. But you won’t win.’’

Kaecilius is silent for a while. It is almost like he freezes along with Time, and it’s only the stilted movements of the cloak against Stephen’s thigh that keep him from going mad. When he Mastered Time, he’d been enthralled by the quiet of the world around him, asleep and silenced by his hand. Now, it only unnerves him. Time is not meant to be this non-entity that it is now, and humans aren’t meant to live in the silence of it by themselves.

‘’Yes,’’ Kaecilius says eventually. ‘’You will get what you want. Get us out of this cursed loop.’’

‘’Gladly,’’ Stephen says, and snaps his fingers again.

Wong is taking a step forward, eyes narrowed in suspense. ‘’You were doing something,’’ he says to Kaecilius. ‘’What did you do?’’

‘’I didn’t do anything,’’ Kaecilius says. 

‘’He is ready to bargain now,’’ Stephen says.

Except he’s clearly not, because Kaecilius neatly steps away and throws a spell towards Tony. Stephen stretches out towards him, but there’s no spell that comes, and it’s going to be too late -

Natasha pushes Tony out of the way. When the spell hits her, she lets out a cry and rolls away.

‘’Nat!’’ Barton cries out, dropping to his knees next to her.

Rhodes moves, and so does Thor, and then there are two swords sticking in Kaecilius’ body. He crumples to the ground again, and Stephen finds himself staring at Tony instead, who’s been pushed onto the ground as well and is watching Romanoff. Stephen needs to know he’s alright, and for a moment in his panic, he forgets and opens Mind -

Kaecilius grabs at him, and Stephen’s Mind is taken over neatly again, and he is swallowed in the agony of Kaecilius’ void.

~*~

It feels like waking up, but looking back on it, Stephen’s not sure he ever slept. Maybe it’s a sort of birth, a terrible one that only brings pain and none of the parental love. At the very least, it’s like he wasn’t there and is now, and he doesn’t like the feeling of it.

Kaecilius’ mind is dark, but there is a being in there. It’s the void, he realizes, and it hungers. It feels infinitely powerful, and Stephen could never defeat it. Not alone.

Stephen finds himself sitting on his knees, almost as if bowing for a king, Kaecilius’ body next to him. He is unmoving, but he still breathes. 

‘’Your power smells good,’’ the being says. ‘’I think you’ve come to die.’’

‘’I’ve come to bargain,’’ Stephen retorts. ‘’Again.’’

‘’You have no power,’’ it says.

‘’I have all the power,’’ Stephen lies, and feels his heart start hammering. He has to play his cards right, but this being knows what he is capable of. This lives in Kaecilius’ mind, on his invitation. No surprise that he wields such power now - and now this being is only bound. Was Kaecilius planning on taking his revenge with this? Was it about more than revenge, but about an actual goal?

‘’I am Dormammu,’’ the being roars. ‘’I am your mind now. You belong to me now!’’

‘’I can keep you here,’’ Stephen challenges. ‘’And you won’t be able to - to destroy Veston, if we stay.’’

Dormammu eyes him. ‘’The time loop,’’ he says. ‘’You do not trick me this time, sorcerer. Your tricks won’t work a second time.’’

‘’Kaecilius is dying,’’ Stephen says. ‘’You have no mind to hold onto, currently. There’s no power in here to save you. Isn’t it what you need?’’

‘’I need to eat,’’ Dormammu says. ‘’I can eat you!’’

‘’It won’t be enough,’’ Stephen says. ‘’What did Kaecilius want to give you? A whole kingdom? You could take it, I’m sure.’’

‘’It is mine already.’’

‘’No,’’ Stephen mutters. ‘’No, it’s not. Kaecilius’ armies are failing, and he’s dying. This world isn’t yours, and neither are these people. They’ve fought for it, and they get to keep it. If you lose Kaecilius’ mind, then where will you be? Don’t you need him?’’

‘’I will be freed!’’ Dormammu says, and the world flashes by him as if a vision, and streaks of light all pointing towards Dormammu like they feed him. ‘’You have lost, sorcerer. I will have your world, and any world beyond it!’’

Stephen exhales, and he can feel Mind. He isn’t sure whether he is in Kaecilius’ mind, or Kaecilius has infiltrated his - it won’t matter, in the long run. Dormammu is drunk on power either way, and Stephen has devised a way to trap him. He’s just not sure it will hold. He takes Kaecilius’ wrist, slowly feeling the power seep from him.

Mind is alight with colours, and in here, he can see them - all he lost. Blue shines out clear, next to yellow and green, and it’s like he smells the grass or feels the breeze of the wind. He gave them up for a reason, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t follow up on it.

Five Aspects flare up in him, and he can feel them in his veins, bouncing off of each other.

‘’You can have all these Aspects,’’ he says, Reality twisting his voice, ‘’or you can have none.’’

Dormammu eyes him greedily, focusing on him again.

‘’I can have everything,’’ Dormammu says, and lunges.

Stephen drops Reality at the right moment and rolls away. He switches back to his own body, and Kaecilius starts looking like himself again. The other sorcerer snaps awake as his powers are drained by the being, and Stephen would feel sorry for him when his eyes fall on him. Dormammu turns, but he is everything in Mind, and he is large and still feeding on Kaecilius, who he’d believed to be Stephen.

‘’No!’’ Kaecilius yells, stretching out his hand.

‘’Both of you could’ve bargained,’’ Stephen says, and with the combination of Space and Mind, he throws himself out of this place.

The ground is painful underneath him, and Kaecilius’ body - two swords still included - leans on him, lifeless on its own. He heaves out a painful gasp and throws Kaecilius off of him, leaning on his right arm. He can feel himself trembling under his own weight. Kaecilius’ body spasms, and the cracks around his eyes get bigger until his face isn’t visible anymore. It all happens within a second, and Stephen watches as Kaecilius’ body disappears like dust as if he never existed at all.

‘’Stephen!’’ Tony yells out, and the prince is right next to him, allowing him to lean against him.

‘’So much for a conspicuous relationship,’’ Stephen mutters, but runs his finger along Tony’s armour and the injury. 

Tony lets out a breath. ‘’I thought you were dead,’’ he says accusingly. ‘’What did you do? What happened?’’

Stephen sits up and eyes the armies that are still fighting. It feels like the end of an era, with Kaecilius gone, and Dormammu defeated for now. And yet, the battle continues. 

‘’We’ll talk later,’’ he says wearily. ‘’We have to finish it. Without Kaecilius to protect them, Menteri will eventually leave. They cannot win.’’

‘’Right,’’ Tony says pragmatically, and offers him a hand to help him up. Stephen takes it graciously. ‘’Time to finish this off. Barton, take Romanoff inside the city. We’ll end this fight.’’

‘’Fun,’’ Rhodes says, but picks up his sword again grimly.

~*~

It’s still messy. Somehow, Tony is both surprised and not surprised at the same time. Of course nothing comes easy, and the battle was already a huge disorganised mess by the time he left to go help the Ancient One - or actually Stephen, in hindsight. Only King Nicholas was left on their side to coordinate the attack, and on the other side it’d been Stane and Killian. 

It’s deep into the night by the time the Menteri surrender. Aldrich Killian had been taken prisoner by Rhodes and will inhabit the cell that Stane did. As for Stane himself - Tony hasn’t seen him again, and he suspects his old mentor has disappeared into the night. In the chaos, it certainly was easy enough, and Obi always said that it’s important to know when to run.

Many people have died today, and there’s a great number of Menteri who have ran, and then there’s the number that they’ve captured. Tony feels a bone-deep weariness, but somehow he’s still standing and commanding and more things that aren’t sleeping. He suspects it will come eventually - for now it’s just Rhodey and Stephen with his wavy and sentient cloak beside him that keep him standing.

He rubs his injury even as he watches the soldiers bring in more Menteri prisoners into the gate. His hand comes away with dried blood, dark and sticky in the light of the moon. 

‘’We don’t have room to keep all of them,’’ Rhodey says seriously. ‘’Not for a longer period, anyway. Especially if we take into consideration that they might riot.’’

‘’They won’t, not anytime soon,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Everyone’s exhausted and they’re reeling with loss.’’

As they all are. Howard’s body had been brought in already, and Tony’s sure someone is already working on making sure there’s a funeral. He doesn’t really want to think about any of that. The Ancient One’s body had been brought, too, and he remembers the look on Stephen’s face when they saw her.

Suddenly, it’s just them in control. It’s not anything he could have expected.

‘’We’ll deal with it later,’’ he says, because his wound is hurting him and he’s so, so tired. His brain feels like someone has dumped it in water and left it to soak for a bit, because it’s hard to think and also just a little bit hard to focus on breathing.

‘’Tony!’’ 

Rhodey is before him, his eyes far closer than they were just now, and his hand is on Tony’s shoulder. There’s no trace of tiredness in his face anymore, just pure concern, and Tony falls against him just not to see that expression.

Seeing Stephen is even worse.

‘’What?’’ Tony asks, and groans, his hand going back to his abdomen. His chest also feels strange, and the world is just a bit dizzy.

He barely pays attention to how Rhodey takes off his armour, not gently in the least, and throws it at the ground. He can feel him poking at the injury, and he hisses. 

‘’Blood loss?’’ he can hear Stephen, vaguely, but it’s like he’s standing in the Palace in Ireningas instead of here, with Tony. And that’s unfair, because Stephen should always be here with him.

‘’Poison,’’ Rhodey says instead, and Tony thinks about Obadiah, and thinks about his mother and how she died, and suddenly -

Obadiah already knew that Tony was going to die today. It’d take him a few hours to actually die, but he’d done it. Obadiah Stane had effectively killed the entire Stark line: one with poison, one with war, and one with both. It’d be funny, if it wasn’t like his entire body was on fire.

‘’It’s fine,’’ he says, because it has to be said. He isn’t sure it comes out right, though.

‘’No,’’ Stephen says, and then suddenly Stephen’s much closer than ever. The sun had set hours earlier, but it feels like Tony is being enveloped in warmth and there’s an almost orange shine about Stephen and his hands -

The cloak is wrapped around Tony. That’s the warmth, but it doesn’t explain the orange. His injury hurts, but Tony can only watch Stephen - had he ever believed that this man was some kind of angel? It’s comforting, now, because Stephen is more than that - his hands are steady now, and there’s something desperate about the way he keeps muttering to himself. Tony strains to hear, but it’s hard to focus.

The pain disappears as fast as it came, and Tony clenches Stephen’s arm. He looks down at himself - risking a glance at what has to be a festering wound - and finds nothing. Dried blood and underneath, clear skin.

‘’What - wait,’’ Tony says, and shakes himself. ‘’Stephen -’’

The orange glow disappears again, and he takes Stephen with both of his arms now. Stephen stares just past him, and his gaze is unfocused, like he’s dreaming. Tony sits up straight, and he doesn’t remember when he fell down, but something happened. The cloak falls off his body, twitching a little bit before settling on Stephen again.

‘’Tony?’’ Stephen asks, and now his breathing is a little panicked.

‘’Orange,’’ Tony says, and he looks down at the cloak, and back at Stephen. ‘’That was - Stephen? Stephen, what just happened?’’

Stephen blinks. ‘’I just - the cloak. The Ancient One held it before she died. She’d told me I’d know what to do. I think I Mastered Soul.’’

‘’So what’s wrong?’’ Tony asks, and shakes Stephen again for good measure. ‘’Stephen, look at me. What’s wrong?’’

‘’I - Tony,’’ Stephen says, and blindly grasps for Tony with trembling hands. ‘’I can’t see.’’


	22. Black / I

_You will know what to do_ , she says, and her figure is made up of orange mists in an otherwise white world, and Stephen reaches for her. She smiles, and it’s sad and lonely and she disappears in the mist, and Stephen _does_ know what to do, and he _did_ realize that his cloak held the key to Soul, that the Ancient One had somehow poured life into it so that he may save Tony. Her own life, to save a prince’s. A sacrifice made and honoured.

But he dreams, and so he takes the cloak and feels Soul drip between his fingers, and he watches it drip away and Tony turns white before him. And then it still goes dark, because somehow, somehow - she’d always known he’d end up here.

Stephen wakes up, or maybe he was already half-awake, with petty accusations towards her still clouding his mind.

‘’Stephen,’’ someone says, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Christine, and he grabs his own bed to sit upright, and then he grabs in the direction of the voice.

Two soft hands grab his own, calming him. She strokes his knuckles, and Stephen can’t even care about the scars she must be seeing anymore. He won’t be seeing them anytime soon.

‘’Tony?’’ he asks, because the last time he woke up Tony was here.

‘’He had to go do some things,’’ Christine whispers. ‘’He’s a king now, Stephen. He wanted to be here.’’

‘’I know,’’ Stephen says, and uses Mind to get an impression of her thoughts. Normally he could tell by just looking at her face - since that’s not an option, he will have to rely on his Aspects. 

‘’You should rest,’’ she continues. ‘’Wong’s taking caring of the sorcerers, and -’’

‘’I don’t need _rest_ ,’’ Stephen bites, and withdraws his hands. ‘’I need to _do_ something. Ireningas is in shambles and our people are still afraid! The battle may have been won, but Stane is still out there. Nicholas’ armed forces need to be sent home, and I can make portals. I can help with cleaning the battlefield, or I can try to track the other enemies. I can even help you with healing others, if you need a hand.’’

‘’Stephen,’’ Christine says sternly. ‘’You’ve been through a traumatic experience. You can’t just be up and about two days after the battle! You’re adjusting, and that’s normal.’’

‘’Everyone has been through a traumatic experience! Or did you forget we just went through a devastating battle?’’ Stephen snaps.

He can feel with Mind that it’s the wrong thing to say, and he regrets it even before he feels Christine’s icy demeanour settle. ‘’I did not forget, Stephen Strange,’’ she says tersely, ‘’because I’ve been tending to everyone who lived through that night. I’ve had to cut off arms and legs to save people, and some people I couldn’t save, and others may be alright physically but won’t ever be again mentally. I did _not_ forget, you asshole.’’

Stephen is silent for a few moments, and then takes her arm again. ‘’I am an asshole,’’ he says quietly. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Yes, you are,’’ she snaps, but then she sits down next to him and lays a head on his shoulder.

‘’But I can help,’’ Stephen continues. ‘’Christine, there’s so much that needs doing. I’m blind, but I just - I want to do something. Get my mind off of it. I can help you, if you want. I can use Mind to help people with their trauma or get rid of their nightmares. I can use Space if someone wants to go home. Let me help?’’

‘’Fine,’’ Christine says, and her voice is thick with tears, but he can feel her gratitude anyway. ‘’You know, I’ve never been sure that losing colours was worth the power. Now I _am_ sure about it. Not worth it.’’

Stephen smiles and helps her up. He still feels a little unsteady, but he can use his Aspects to see. Even if it won’t be the same. ‘’I did what was needed,’’ he says.

If he’d had a choice, he would give up all his Aspects to see again.

~*~

Tony has a thousand things to arrange and a thousand more being arranged for him, and it feels like he hasn’t slept since that battle. In fact, he’s sure it’s only been a couple of stolen hours anyway, but by now he’s been awake for so long that he hardly feels the exhaustion unless he focuses on it.

‘’Rhodes said I’d find you here,’’ someone says.

Tony turns to see Rogers, one hand tucked behind his back, the other loosely holding onto the shield Tony had gifted him. It’s as if the Knight thinks he might require protecting from Tony, and that’s almost enough to make him laugh.

‘’I’m surprised he let you in,’’ Tony says, and he can’t help the way he tenses. ‘’I didn’t think you’d be back.’’

Steve hums. ‘’Well, he shouted at me for a bit first, but I convinced him that I needed to talk to you. Why are you here?’’

The broken throne room. Tony doesn’t have the time or the people to have it restored right away. All in all, the damage to the Palace is superficial compared to everything else going on. But still, it must seem odd - the new King, staring at a throne covered in broken glass of all colours. The sun spills on the floor now in a pure white, its heat softened by the breeze coming through the window.

‘’No reason,’’ he says, and forces himself not to look back at the throne again. ‘’You shouldn’t have come back, Steve. I could’ve had you thrown in prison for what you did.’’

Steve straightens his shoulders, a stubborn tilt to his chin. Tony knows him like that - it’s the reason Steve made for such a good Knight. Besides, he’d had Knight James Buchanan vouching for him at the time, who’d already been in Howard’s favour. With Steve’s mind for strategy and his strict upholding of morals, it’d been no surprise to anyone to see him become a Knight of Virtue.

That’s not to say that Tony isn’t coming to realize that like anyone else, Steve Rogers is a deeply flawed human being, which he may have forgotten in earlier years.

‘’You could,’’ Steve says. ‘’But you won’t.’’

Tony lets out a humourless laugh. ‘’I won’t,’’ he agrees.

The silence between them isn’t comfortable or companionable - it’s tense and ragged with emotion and betrayal, and Steve shuffles on his feet. Tony likes that he’s ill at ease, likes that Steve knows that he’s broken his vows. 

‘’I didn’t kill him, Tony,’’ he eventually says, and his voice is just the tiniest bit hoarse. ‘’I didn’t mean - the King - I looked up to him. He’s given me so much, and you - I am proud to be a Knight. I loved to feel like I was doing good in this world, for this country. If it’d been anyone but Bucky -’’

‘’But it wasn’t,’’ Tony snaps. ‘’Instead you protected his murderer and handed him the murder weapon. You’re not a Knight anymore, Rogers. I won’t - I _can’t_ \- let this go. Not as your King, but especially not as your friend.’’

Steve stills as if struck. ‘’Friend?’’ he repeats.

‘’Maybe not yours,’’ Tony says. ‘’But yes, I considered most of the Knights my friends. We’ve trained together and grown up together - you got me from the desert when I thought I was going to die. You fought by my side. That can be just duty for you, maybe, but this isn’t - this will never be okay. This isn’t something I’m capable of forgiving you. And if I ever see your pal Bucky again, he’ll end up in a cell to rot.’’

‘’It’s not him,’’ Steve insists. ‘’After the battle, he ran off. I think he recognized me. I think it was Mind - it can’t have been him, Tony, it’s not him.’’

Tony nods slowly. ‘’Maybe,’’ he says. ‘’But I don’t care. You’re banished from Ireningas, in any case. I’ll give the order in a few days so you have time to pack and prepare. Maybe King Nicholas will have you.’’

‘’I’m going after Bucky,’’ Steve says resolutely.

‘’I don’t care,’’ Tony repeats, and it might be harsh, but he really can’t. Even if Barnes was controlled, and even if Steve’s motives are ultimately so human that Tony can understand his reasoning somewhere - 

Well. Steve clung to friendship when he made his decision, and he refuses to regret it. That is Steve’s humanity, and he’ll have to live with that. Tony is human in a whole other way, grieving and in pain, and some part of him wants to lock up Rogers and never have him see daylight again.

But Tony is a better man than that. Rogers will do good, even if it’s not in the name of the King, and he’s given it all up to look for his friend. As long as he knows that Tony will have Barnes locked up until the end of times if he ever sees them again. Which Tony will take precautions to make sure doesn’t happen.

That’s enough.

‘’Goodbye, Tony,’’ Steve says, resigned, and Tony turns away, and says nothing.

~*~

Stephen is only just getting the hang of not walking into people using Mind, but he’s still walking into _things_. He mutters a curse at the table he walked into unsuspectingly, feeling the bruise already forming on his shin. 

‘’Careful, Master Strange,’’ someone says, and her voice is familiar, but Stephen has trouble placing her. ‘’It’s a bit of a mess here - sorry about that. Um, are you okay?’’

‘’May?’’ he asks, and squints in her general direction, prodding her with Mind so gently that she won’t even notice. It’s indeed May, and there’s another person there - a young boy, from what Stephen can sense from him. The boy’s confusion and curiosity about Ireningas make Stephen believe he is one of the many who have come to Ireningas for safety.

There’s a lot of those coming now, with their own villages having been burnt down by the Menteri. They’d appeared after the battle, Stephen knows, but he hasn’t had time to deal with any of them, considering his own mandatory bed rest.

‘’Yes?’’ she says. ‘’This is Peter Parker. Peter, say hi to Master Strange.’’

‘’Hi, Master Strange,’’ the boy echoes.

‘’Master Strange?’’ May ventures as Stephen attempts to stare at where they are. He can still feel them, but Mind will require some fine tuning, he suspects, if he’s to learn how to read people like he could before.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’He’s - aren’t you going to shake his hand?’’

‘’Oh,’’ he says, and then only comes to the realization that May doesn’t know what happened to him. It’s reassuring to know that Stephen’s faking it well enough, then. ‘’I’m sorry, Peter and Miss May. I’d gladly shake your hand, but I’m afraid I can’t actually see it.’’

It’s almost not difficult to say. It’s almost enough to ignore the anxiety that he feels about his world being all black now.

‘’You’re - oh.’’ May sounds shocked, but before Stephen can say anything, small fingers find his right hand. He lets his hand be taken by the little boy, who carefully shakes it for him and then lets it drop again.

‘’Thank you, Peter,’’ he says gently, and scooches down. ‘’That’s very considerate of you.’’

He can feel something like happiness spread in the little boy’s mind, and smiles.

‘’What happened to your hands?’’ Peter asks. ‘’And why’re you blind? You’re a sorcerer, right? I thought they only couldn’t see one colour.’’

Stephen tilts his head, eyeing the boy’s Mind. With a little more inspection, he can see that Peter is curious and analytical - smart, undoubtedly, and very sympathetic. He’s also a little afraid, and he can sense that he’s still holding onto May, despite the fact he doesn’t seem to be altogether too familiar with her either.

‘’I hurt my hands when I was protecting the prince,’’ he says calmly. At least that doesn’t make him anxious to think about - with Mind under his control, his hands aren’t the main issue. He’ll do the same thing for his blindness, he tells himself. It won’t cripple him - he refuses to let it. ‘’And I lost my sight in the battle.’’

‘’Oh,’’ Peter says. ‘’I’m sorry. I had a blind friend in Brichley. He was pretty cool. Matt didn’t lose his sight in a war, though, he had an accident.’’

‘’Hopefully no one ever will have to lose anything in a war again,’’ Stephen says, and rises. ‘’Are you staying with May, Peter?’’

‘’The Parkers,’’ May starts, and he can feel the anxiety and pain from her even without trying to feel it. ‘’They’re - well. Brichley was hit pretty heavily by the armies. They didn’t make it out, but Peter got away with some other families. They - Richard told him to find me.’’

Stephen doesn’t know her story, but he can sense what she’s feeling. She’s lost and lonely, and she’s grieving. Asking questions is the last thing she needs, so he carefully leans forward until his hand finds her arm.

‘’It’ll be alright,’’ he murmurs, because he’s here to heal people, so that’s what he’ll try to do.

May lets out a sob, and he removes his hand as he sits next to her. ‘’They’re dead,’’ she whispers, and Stephen knows better than to ask even as Peter falls silent.

~*~

‘’Pepper,’’ Tony asks, and ignores his father’s Council staring at him for using such a nickname during an official meeting, ‘’can’t we cut the budget from usual festivities? I know we have to keep morale high in Ireningas, but I think actually making sure that people can eat is more important than giving the nobles a party this year.’’

Pepper winces, her nails brushing through the papers. ‘’There’s nothing,’’ she says in exasperation. ‘’Soldiers are paid very well, my King, and unless you want to pay them and their families any less, we will have trouble. All we can do, as I suggested, is call for King Nicholas’ aid. I’m sure he’ll want to help.’’

‘’Doubtful,’’ Pym mutters. ‘’He is already fighting a war with us - Nicholas will look to his own people first!’’

Tony massages his own temple. He is not made for ruling, maybe - he’s trying, and he’s learning, but his entire life has not led up to this moment like he’s always tried to believe. He was not meant to be King - he was just born to the person who was, at the time, and therefore he’s here now. 

But voicing any of his doubts won’t solve his people’s problems, and ultimately, that’s what he’s trying to do. That’s why Stephen believed in him, when they first met, and that’s why the Knights follow him. 

‘’This war isn’t over,’’ he says tiredly. ‘’Stane is still at large, and we know he’s spent decades trying to end the Stark line. He will not stop now - especially not because he still holds Menteri.’’

‘’We defeated Menteri,’’ one of the nobles says, and Tony would remember his name if he had any energy to try.

‘’We won a battle,’’ he says sharply. ‘’A costly war, because we pay our soldiers good money to stay loyal and to fight for us - to die for us, if they need, and to provide for their families if so. We have equipment and armour and weapons and plans, and all the while, some soldiers can’t work their usual jobs. Ireningas does not possess endless gold. Menteri will come back, I am convinced of it.’’

Pepper is silent. ‘’But we won before,’’ she says. ‘’It will take some time for them to come back - and we have our weapons, still. It’s not hopeless, just - somewhat bleak.’’

He sends her an encouraging smile. Pepper is equally tired, and he can see how little she’s slept by the darkness smudging her eyes, all the more obvious for her pale skin. 

‘’Yes,’’ he says, ‘’Menteri is a threat, but not one that will follow directly. I am more concerned about other directions this war might come from.’’

Wong has been silent, so far. He sits with two other Masters that Tony doesn’t know, but Stephen undoubtedly will. The only reason Stephen himself is not here is because of his injury, and Tony is trying not to think too hard about any of that. He rubs his Arc unconsciously, where it is hidden under his tunics.

Now, however, the sorcerer speaks. ‘’You worry about other countries?’’

‘’Skoltia,’’ Tony says. ‘’Barnes - the Winter Soldier - he killed my father. He has a metal arm with a red anvil on it; it’s clearly a sign of the Red Smith. I’m not sure how they tie into all of this, but they will. And if that’s true, King Nicholas will have to fight them, too. I’m not sure how much he’ll be able to help us, if the fight comes to them.’’

‘’So it’s war either way,’’ Pym says, and leans back. ‘’Your father was wrong, my King. He thought no one would dare to attack Veston, and yet, here we are.’’

Tony stands up. ‘’I will not seek out war,’’ he says, ‘’but if we’re attacked, we’ll have to protect our people. I won’t rebuild the Palace or any damage to Ireningas unless it’s endangering civilians - it’ll save us some money. We might have to evacuate some of the towns that are close to the border.’’

‘’We already have refugees coming in,’’ Pepper says. ‘’The Menteri burnt some towns on their way here - in that first battle, mainly, so some of them have been on the road for a while now. What do we do with them?’’

‘’Give them a place, but let them know that Ireningas may not be the best place for them. We’ll have to divide. Get working on a strategy with Rhodey - he’ll know the best way how to make sure everyone is safe, and you can make sure we have the money to arrange it all.’’

She nods, and Tony turns. He’s been in this meeting for too long, and Stephen and Rhodey aren’t even here - just some sorcerers and his Council and Pepper, and as much as he dearly loves Pepper, he can’t sit here forever. He has to do something.

‘’My King -’’ one of the Councilmen starts, but Tony cuts him off.

‘’No,’’ he says. ‘’I’ve got other things to take care of now. Pepper, you’re in charge.’’

And with that, he sets course to the infirmary.

~*~

Tony is easy to sense, even with how many people there are. Stephen is sitting on his own bed, staring dead ahead - he thinks. He touches Minds very casually, trying not to invade anyone. Considering no one notices his presence, he seems to be doing fine. It’s harder to brush over someone’s mind than it is to get deep; restraint, whenever he has become a Master, requires more practice than anything else.

But Tony - he doesn’t really need to hold back with Tony. He’s intimately familiar with Tony’s presence, both inside his Mind and out of it. 

‘’Stephen,’’ Tony says, and the bed dips underneath his weight. His voice is calculating - like Howard’s used to be, but in a different way. Howard calculated how to best get what he wanted, while Tony calculates how to best approach him. Stephen tilts his head, trying to sense how he can look Tony in the eyes without actually being able to look.

‘’My King,’’ he says formally, and surreptitiously covers Tony’s hand with his own.

‘’I have not been crowned yet,’’ Tony points out. ‘’It’s not - you know - there’s more important things to do. My father - he’ll be buried first. This afternoon, actually. And the throne room is still a mess, so they can’t crown me.’’

Stephen lays his second hand on Tony’s. Their attempts at secrecy have already failed miserably, and no one would begrudge anyone some consolation in this time. Not Stephen, who has lost his sight so Tony may live, nor Tony, whose father has died and left a kingdom behind to be taken care of.

‘’You are their King now,’’ he murmurs. ‘’Give the people their conoration, Tony. They need to know they can count on you. You’ll be a good King.’’

Tony slumps. ‘’Can you get out of my Mind?’’ he asks tiredly, and Stephen drops the Aspect he hadn’t realized he was using in the first place.

‘’Sorry. Tony, it’s still -’’

‘’I know,’’ Tony interrupts, and pinches Stephen’s hand. ‘’I know. Can you - come? This afternoon? I don’t think I can do this alone. Wong said I should be crowned right after the funeral, and I’m - I was thinking about sneaking away, actually. Not the entire day, but for that bit. And I know you’re not fine, Stephen, but I can - I don’t - well. I don’t know if I can help, and I’m selfish to even ask, after what you did for me, after what you _lost_ , but you’d said I’d be a good king one day, and you’re the only one that can make me believe it.’’

Stephen doesn’t need Mind to understand Tony. He never had, in the first place, and he finds himself nodding. ‘’Of course I’ll come,’’ he says. Losing his colours - losing his vision, it had all led him here. His hands and his eyes, all designed to make him trip along his journey, but all he’d asked for was for him and Tony to see the day beyond the battlefield. He may not be seeing it, but he’s still here, and that is enough. It should be enough.

Tony exhales, a long raggedy breath, and stands. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he murmurs. ‘’It wasn’t meant to be like this.’’

And Stephen remembers the Ancient One, saying _I’ve always lamented that they did not add black_ when she looked at the stained glass in the throne room, a throw-away comment he hadn’t understood at the time. She had chosen his path, for the better or worse, but Stephen had committed to it just the same. She had only seen this future because he had chosen it, too.

‘’No,’’ he says, and rises from the bed. ‘’It was.’’

~*~

Howard’s funeral is not as grand as it could have been, but it’s the most that could be done for now. There is a special graveyard for the Kings and Queens of Veston - golden tombs and marble stones distinguish it from where Tony has seen their soldiers buried. Besides, he’s been here before. His mother’s grave is next to where Howard will soon be.

King Nicholas is there with a small assembly, looking on gravely from where he stands. Prince Thor stands next to Loki. Thor is mostly unharmed from the fight, except from a few scratches on his face, but Loki’s pale face is mostly blue and green. Loki seems more annoyed by it than anything else, having been unconscious for the latter half of the battle.

A good number of sorcerers are there, Wong the first among them as acting Sorcerer Supreme. Stephen isn’t there officially, considering that he’s still supposed to be resting, but his presence is a solid comfort next to Tony. His eyes are an unfocused blue, staring at nothing, and Tony shifts uncomfortably.

Stephen’s cloak wraps itself around his ankle for a moment before loosening. One of these days, Tony will have to figure out whether that cloak had gotten a conscience of its own during the battle or if it’s Stephen doing this somehow.

No one speaks while Rhodey and Happy lower Howard’s casket. Tony just stares at it, swallowing suddenly becoming a difficult task. Howard had never held Tony after his mother’s death, and he’d never told him a bedtime story, and he’d never told him that he loved him. But Howard had been proud of him, in his way, and he’d shown Tony how to forge swords and shields. When he’d been really young, Maria would play piano while Tony sat on her knee, and Howard would be in the door opening and stare at them. At the time, he hadn’t known what it would mean.

But Tony won’t ever have it again, and even if Howard hadn’t been a good father, he’d been _Tony’s_.

So Howard is laid down next to his wife, and Tony can remember her funeral as well, the stoic look of the King even as his son was crying. Everyone grieves differently, and his own stoic expression feels to be breaking, especially as Stephen leans into him.

‘’You’ll be fine,’’ Stephen murmurs, and his hand reaches for Tony’s wrist, and Tony can feel Stephen’s Mind soothing him, and for once he lets him.

Tony nods, and closes his eyes.

~*~

‘’King Anthony,’’ Nicholas says, catching up with Tony after the funeral. ‘’I would like a word with you.’’

‘’Only one?’’ Tony asks, the joke hollow even as he stops to watch the other king. Stephen stands still next to him, rigid like a tree, and Tony sees his blank eyes move right past Nicholas before he somehow corrects himself.

Nicholas’ lip twitches, but it’s not in humour. Tony doesn’t think the man has ever done anything in good fun, or if he has, it was long before Tony knew him. 

‘’I must return to Skida soon,’’ the king says. ‘’I have received word from my right hand. Coulson tells me that skirmishes have broken out across the border - the Red Smith is striking again.’’

‘’This war has not ended yet,’’ Stephen says suddenly. ‘’Skoltia is aligned with Menteri, somehow - with Kaecilius, at least. The soldier that killed King Howard proves it.’’

‘’But Kaecilius is dead.’’ Nicholas is unreadable, staring at the both of them.

‘’Yes,’’ Stephen affirms. ‘’He is. But Stane is still alive, and who knows who else has allied themselves with the Menteri. We must all prepare, King Nicholas, Skida and Veston and Asgard all alike. I think difficult times are ahead, and we’ve only just seen the start.’’

King Nicholas inclines his head, then. ‘’I’ve heard that you’ll be the new head of the Sanctum, Master Strange,’’ he says. ‘’I never understood why Howard put much stock in the words of the Ancient One, or the entwinement of the Sanctum and Veston at all. Maybe you’ll convince me otherwise. I can’t stay for your coronation, Anthony. I’m sorry for your loss, and I’ll let you know when I’ve kicked these Skoltian idiots away from my border.’’

Tony raises his eyebrows and nods. ‘’Good luck,’’ he only says, but it’s all Nicholas needs, because he’s swiftly gone again, his dark cloak draping behind him.

‘’He will find more opposition than he’d like, I think,’’ Stephen says thoughtfully. ‘’Skoltia attacking is a worrisome prospect. It suggests they’re more powerful than we thought.’’

Internally, Tony agrees, but he also doesn’t have the energy to worry about that now. With the direct danger gone, he needs some time to rebuild and plan. Let Nicholas look to his own people - Tony will do the same. 

‘’He’s got a strong army,’’ he says. ‘’The sorcerers will bring them back home.’’

‘’If they’ve got more soldiers like Barnes -’’

‘’Then it’s too late to stop that now, isn’t it? Stephen, c’mon. It’s not something we have to consider right now.’’

‘’Right,’’ Stephen says, and frowns. ‘’Rebuilding, then. Healing. The healing wing is full with people - I didn’t even have time to go to half of them before you came to me. Or - the others. You haven’t - talked to Barton, have you?’’

‘’He’s with Natasha,’’ Tony murmurs. ‘’She’s - she’s not doing too well. I haven’t had the time to go see her in person, but Rhodey and Happy have been updating me. I don’t think he’s left her side since the battle ended.’’

Stephen is silent for a few moments, and Tony lets him stew in his thoughts while they walk the hallways. When he speaks, his voice is a tone lower than it usually is. ‘’I could tell,’’ he says. ‘’With Soul. I will be able to tell if she - if she can be saved.’’

There is a price in that, Tony knows. There’s a price in being the person who has to decide if someone will live or die, even if it’s beyond Stephen. Having him tell Clint, however, and having him watch Natasha and see that part of her - it’s a sacrifice beyond what Stephen should have to make.

‘’You don’t have to,’’ he says. ‘’It won’t make a difference, because we’ll try to save her anyhow. Look, Stephen - Soul. Can it - you know, you saved me. Can you save her, in any way? Is there something you can… _do?_ ’’ 

‘’Do?’’ Stephen repeats, and sighs. ‘’It’s Soul, Tony. Life for a life, death for a death. The Ancient One offered up her life so I could save yours. Unless you want to condone someone else to death, there’s nothing I can do. And I’m feeling a bit iffy on the ethics of that.’’

It’s the thing that Howard would have done, Tony knows. And he also knows that it’s the same mistake Howard told him he would learn from. Ethics are slippery enough in a war. She is his friend, but to trade her life for someone else’s -

It’s not really his call to make, is it? To decide who’s more important, and who’s not. Natasha jumped in front of a spell meant for him, and it means she’s lying still and pale on a bed somewhere in private rooms. It means Clint is sitting by her side, holding a cold hand. It had been her choice to do that, and she’d always said that she would make this choice. Tony can’t ask someone else to give up a life, or even a _chance_ of life, for a friend. It’s not the kind of king he wants to be.

Stephen covers his hand, pale eyes unblinking and not focused on his. Tony decides that he’s had enough of sacrifices.

‘’We’ll visit her tomorrow,’’ he says, ‘’when everything that must be done today has been settled. She deserves nothing but our undivided attention.’’

‘’We’ll visit her tomorrow,’’ Stephen agrees, and lets his hand slip away again.

~*~

The same people are at the coronation as there are at the funeral, most of them still wearing the customary black. It’s much of a public event, as it always has been, but few inhabitants of Ireningas have come to see their new King crowned. Tony isn’t surprised; most people have something else to be doing, right now, and the fact that there’s still some people here is already odd. But Nicholas has just left with his own, and there’s still a number of people in the healing halls, which leaves Tony with a shockingly small audience.

He’s glad for the lack of people to pay attention to him. All the people who are here give him plenty.

Rhodey is right next to him, as is his right as the captain of the Knights of Virtue. Steve isn’t here, now, and Clint and Natasha aren’t either; but Stephen is on his left side, standing still as a tree. His empty gaze, the blue of his eyes even cooler than it used to be, sweeps over the people. Tony can almost feel Mind prickling at his consciousness; he’s not sure Stephen is even aware of what he’s doing. Since he’s lost his sight, Stephen has little else to rely on. 

A stab of guilt runs him through as painfully as any knife could. Stephen’s face turns to him, and Tony can see his hand itch before he puts them behind his back, his stance that of the perfect Sorcerer Supreme.

They haven’t even given the Ancient One a proper burial, and they haven’t officiated Stephen. Tony wonders if they will even find the time for it, and if Stephen wants it. If he even wanted to follow her in this, in this title. Tony’s just glad that he’s here.

Rhodey stands before the crowd. Howard’s crown is held by Pepper, since she is the Treasurer; this is her giving the treasure of Veston to Tony. It hadn’t been sure who needed to crown Tony. It normally would have been the task of the old King, but wartime has a way of coming between traditions. The Sorcerer Supreme would have been a second choice, but Stephen hadn’t brought it up and Tony hadn’t wanted to ask. It would have been strange, and Tony would rather have the sorcerer beside him, quiet and steady. Besides, Stephen has been in the healing rooms for the majority of the time since the battle. They’ve had to make arrangements without him.

Rhodey takes the crown, almost reverently, and when he turns to Tony, his expression is grim but certain. None of them had thought they’d be here, last year, or even last month. In all the years that Tony had distantly wondered about his coronation, Howard had been next to him. Very long ago, his imaginations had had Maria next to him, too. 

‘’Today, we have woken up in a different world,’’ Rhodey says, and his voice isn’t loud, but it reverberates nonetheless. Maybe everyone is just holding their breath; Tony wouldn’t know. He hasn’t ever seen any coronation in his lifetime, but the air feels heavy with something. Grief, maybe, and some sort of misplaced hope. The guilt in his chest caves into his heart, and he takes a deep breath. If there was ever a time to be brave, it’s right now.

‘’Today,’’ Rhodey continues, ‘’we have all been wallowing in grief and in pain. Today marks the start of a new era. These days will be hard, and they will be dark. We have lost many of our own; family and friends, sons and daughters, people we’d never believed we’d lose so soon. We have lost our King, and we have lost the Sorcerer Supreme. But today, we also gained something. It will be a difficult time, and it will not be an easy path. To guide us on that path, we need a leader. Anthony Edward Stark, will you promise to guide us on that path?’’

‘’I promise,’’ Tony says, and his voice is croaky as he falls down to his knees, keeping his eyes on Rhodey’s. Rhodey smiles, a bitter and fragile thing on his face that’s more alien than any other expression he could’ve worn.

‘’And do you promise to be fair to your people, and only ever act in their defense?’’

‘’I promise,’’ Tony repeats, and he thinks back to a dinner a long time ago, and Stephen asking him if he’d be a good King. Tony swallows his bile, and inclines his head as Rhodey takes a step forward.

The crown settles on his head. Tony exhales, and raises his head once again.

‘’Long live the King, Anthony Stark,’’ Rhodey says, and takes a step back.

‘’Long live the King!’’ the crowd echoes.

‘’Long live the King,’’ Stephen murmurs beside him, and Tony rises. Even despite the grief and agony of the last few days - the last months, really, and his chest sends him a reminder of his own personal hell - some people are smiling. Hogan is right there at the front, May by his side with a young child. Friday stands close by, too, and there are other familiar faces in the crowd. Some aren’t even familiar, and they are still cheering for him.

Tony straightens his back. The gold of the crown feels cold against his skin, but it fits him well. He holds up a hand, and the cheering dies away.

‘’I’ve made my promises,’’ he says, and takes another breath. Each one feels like a vow. ‘’But I’d make a thousand more each day if it was needed. I was asked, not even a year ago, if I’d make for a good King. If I would choose this, if I could have. None of us can choose our fate, but we all have the chance to take a path that isn’t expected. I am your King, now, and I promise that your well-being is the most important thing to me. Even in the light of everything that has happened, everything that will happen, I promise that I won’t lose sight of it. I’ll let that guide me.’’

He doesn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t planned on saying anything - how could he have? Yesterday, he’d had a sword in his hand and blood on his tongue. Today, he stands in a throne room with a broken window and a broken kingdom underneath his feet.

But he shifts where he stands, and the crowd cheers for him again. Tony just stands, and for his few minutes as the King of Veston, listens to his people.

~*~

It takes two hours for Tony to have decided upon a course of action. One of many, he’s sure, that will take place in the coming days. His father’s old Council has joined him, the ones that could, and Rhodey is still there. His crown is still sitting on his head, and he hasn’t had the time to change clothes from his father’s funeral all throughout the day.

‘’We do need to be prepared,’’ Tony says, although no one has opposed him yet. ‘’Asgard is on neutral ground, officially, although perhaps Thor and Loki will change that. King Nicholas has his own borders to look to now that Skoltia is involved. This isn’t going to be over soon, not while there’s still people out there that want war.’’

‘’We’ve already done all we can,’’ Pym argues. ‘’We’ve got the weapons, we’ve got the soldiers. We can train more children, but that will take years, and there will be a lot of opposition -’’

‘’That was not my idea,’’ Tony interrupts smoothly, and looks towards the most uncomfortable member of their company. ‘’Everett Ross - you’ve been proving yourself to be a most valuable member of the guards as of late.’’

Ross twitches, smiling hesitantly. ‘’I try my best, my King.’’

‘’I’m offering to you,’’ Tony says, with a guarded look to Rhodey, ‘’a position as a Knight of Virtue. And I already have a mission in mind for you. It’ll take you far away from home, but there’s a chance that we can have a lot to win.’’

‘’A Knight of Virtue?’’ Ross repeats. ‘’Are you - I’m honoured, my King, but are you sure?’’

‘’Very much so,’’ Tony says, and this time doesn’t keep his smile to himself. ‘’The position is yours, whether you take the trip or not.’’

‘’Where?’’ Ross asks.

‘’Have you ever heard of a place called Wakanda?’’ Tony asks, and taps his fingers on the table. “It’s where the vibranium comes from that my father once had. I don’t think he got it honestly, but I want to change it. I want you to go there, and I want you to set up a trade route.”

Ross leans forward, undoubtedly intrigued. “Where is it?” he asks.

Tony smiles. “That’s for you to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am glad to report I've actually finished writing, _finally_ , so the final update will follow soon. hang in tight to find out how things will end with our new king, sorcerer supreme, and the rest of the knights, as they prepare for the future and deal with the past.


	23. Black / II

It takes two days for the storm to settle. Nothing resembling calm comes to the Palace, but at least Tony’s attention isn’t asked for every single minute, and he’s even managed to sleep for a few hours during the night.

Stephen would know. He’s the one that forced the newly-coronated King of Veston under the covers, grumbling like a child.

The storm is still keenly felt in Natasha’s rooms. Stephen has never been here, and he can’t see it. He can feel the coldness of blades hanging in the room, though, and he can sense that there are other weapons simply through the subtle thoughts of Tony and Rhodes when they’d entered.

Had she not been lying there like a puppet, Stephen might have expressed some amusement at the ostentatious presence of knives in Natasha’s rooms. It’s hard not to feel down with the bitter atmosphere. Clint Barton has barely moved from his wooden chair next to her bed since they got here, and Stephen doesn’t think he’s moved much at all in the days since the battle ended.

Rhodes shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He’s not a sorcerer, but Stephen doesn’t think any of them need Mind to feel the agitation in Barton. It burns in him, a colourless fire that brightens the whole room painfully, his grief and loss and hope despite himself.

Natasha’s Mind is blank. There’s nothing there. He doesn’t watch her with Soul, afraid of what he might find.

Tony is less fidgety than Rhodes. There’s been a strength to him since he was crowned, one that Stephen had always seen underneath rather than in his exterior. Tony just sits by her bedside and watches his Knight of Vice, the one who’d taken a hit meant for him. 

‘’She will wake up,’’ he says. 

Barton’s voice is flat. ‘’Palmer seemed less convinced. She can’t tell what’s wrong, exactly, but she said Natasha won’t make it. I’m just - sitting here. Waiting. For whatever happens. She’d do the same for me.’’

‘’She would,’’ Stephen says, and retracts Mind a bit. He can almost see how the scene plays out - four men, one near-dead woman. There will be shouting, probably from Barton, who feels like he has been wanting to shout for three consecutive days. Stephen doubts he has.

‘’Just -’’ Barton’s voice breaks at that a little bit, and Stephen can feel him rebuilding himself. His senses are odd, now, but Barton is emotional, and bleeding all over the room, so loudly that Stephen can’t turn him off even if he’s trying to. ‘’Just tell me something. I’ve been sitting here - what happened, towards the end? You were dying, Tony. Heard about that.’’

‘’Poison,’’ Rhodes says darkly. ‘’Obadiah tipped his blade with poison. Stephen managed to save him in time.’’

‘’And Mastered Soul?’’ Barton asks. ‘’Is that - it’s a bit freaky, man. Your eyes, I mean.’’

‘’Duly noted,’’ Stephen says dryly. He doesn’t necessarily mind. He can’t exactly see people watching him anymore, can he? His sacrifice - his vision for both Tony’s life and Mastery of all Aspects. All in all, it seems a fair trade, even if it doesn’t always _feel_ like it. He’ll learn.

‘’With his Cloak,’’ Tony says. ‘’Who still seems to have a soul, by the way.’’

The Cloak that Stephen is still wearing flares up at that. It hasn’t been moving too much on its own, but yes, it does rather seem to have a consciousness. It’s not the Ancient One - he’d made sure of that, with Soul and Mind. However, having some sort of Life inhabiting the Cloak seems to have left a residue, and now the Cloak is something of an individual.

‘’He is his own Cloak now,’’ Stephen mutters, and the Cloak wriggles. Stephen lets it go, although he’s very aware of where it is. Its presence in Mind is odd, but it’s certainly something. It sits down next to Clint, binding his hand together with Natasha’s. 

‘’What is it doing?’’ Clint asks suspiciously. ‘’Is it trying to say something?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ Stephen says honestly. ‘’The Cloak’s alive, and its conscience was forged through Soul. It might be able to sense her, and to sense her bond to you. Maybe it can hear her, in a way that we can’t sense. Soul is - _was_ a myth. I have no idea what exactly it can do and how it’ll have affected the Cloak.’’

‘’So that Cloak saved Tony’s life?’’ Clint asks, morbidly intrigued. ‘’It actually stored someone’s life and kept it? And that’s why it’s moving now?’’

‘’Something like that, anyway,’’ Stephen says. He’ll discuss it later with Wong - no one here has enough of a grasp on the concepts of the Mystic Arts, barring maybe Clint. Despite Clint’s interest, though, Stephen doesn’t think that he’ll be focused on learning more. He can feel how nothing but Natasha’s condition really concerns Clint, at this point.

Rhodes rises from his chair; Stephen looks his direction automatically, honing his senses closer to Rhodes’ rather than Clint. He can faintly feel Tony’s amusement at that, and something like relief at the way Stephen is managing. He pushes that away.

‘’I need to go,’’ Rhodes says apologetically. ‘’We’re still investigating Killian. I need to talk to him more, and we should have a trial soon, I think. It’d boost a lot of people’s spirit if he were to be executed.’’

Tony sighs. ‘’Yeah,’’ he says. ‘’I’m not sure we can. He’s got insight into their plan that we might need. At the very least, he could be used as a bargaining chip - he is the Mandarin, whichever way you look at it.’’

‘’He _led their army,_ ’’ Clint says. 

‘’Tony’s right,’’ Stephen says. ‘’He’s in a dungeon, and he’s miserable, and he’s going to be paying for his crimes the rest of his life. Better to have him protect others than to have him die without a use. If he talks, we should make use of that.’’

Clint is quiet, but Stephen can still feel his malcontent. It’s not surprising; his closest friend is lying on a bed, near dead in a way that might be very permanent, because of a war that is partly Killian’s responsibility. Stephen doesn’t like it any better, but his job is to look towards the future.

Natasha lies on silently, completely unaware of any of their thoughts, or her own.

~*~

Tony always wears the crown, these days.

It’s not a sign of power, really, although Rhodey has advised him to keep doing it. It’s mostly because everything needs to be rebuilt, and Tony needs to stand strong as a tree. He can’t be the one being rebuilt, this time. It needs to feel as if he’s been in charge all along, as if Howard didn’t run their country only a few short weeks ago.

So yes, he wears the crown for their people, so they don’t accidentally call him by his old title. They have no way to forget it, the way the metal gleams in even the barest of lights. Tony got used to the weight fast, the way he never did to the one he used to wear as a prince.

Maybe he just needed to wear it all the time.

The only place he takes it off is in his own personal rooms. He’s upgraded; he hasn’t taken Howard’s old room, instead leaving that as it is, for now, but he’s moved to somewhere a little quieter. It’s closer to Stephen, too. It’s only a quick run to fall into each other’s arm every night, now. Everyone might know what they’re doing, but having them see it is something entirely different.

Friday is there now, so there’s no falling into anyone’s arms; Stephen is there, nonetheless. She cleans the crown he now wears so diligently, while Stephen is running his fingers over some books, a definite scowl on his face. Tony hadn’t asked, when Stephen had taken the books. He begins to wonder if he should, but the day is about to start, and he’s not sure if he has the time for Stephen that such a discussion would need. If Stephen wants to read books he can’t see, he surely has a reason for it.

There’s a knock on his door, and any time he might’ve had slips away.

“Come in,” he says, and watches as May comes in, balancing a tray on her left arm, her fingers curling around the edges. With her right hand, she’s holding onto a young boy, brown-haired and peaking at Tony curiously.

“Your breakfast, my King,” she says, and curtsies after she puts down the tray, her smile fraying at the edges. ‘’I’m sorry - this is Peter, my new ward. His parents were from Brichley, my King, so his coming into my care - it was unexpected, and I wasn’t sure what to do -’’

‘’Hello again, Peter!’’ Stephen says unexpectedly, pulling away from his book and focusing on the kid. Peter doesn’t seem worried by Stephen’s light eyes and distant stare - he smiles back brightly.

‘’A mysterious visitor,’’ Tony says. ‘’Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Tony.’’

‘’I know who you are,’’ Peter says, and he sounds unafraid but he does pull at May’s sleeve a bit. ‘’You’re the King! May tells me you didn’t use to be, but your mommy and daddy died, too, and you’re brave, so I can be too. That’s what she says.’’

May stills. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ she stammers, ‘’he’s not - I never meant -’’

Tony waves it away. The mention of his father doesn’t go without an accompanying wave of loss; he can feel Stephen’s eyes on him now, undoubtedly feeling the change. Tony’s glad that Stephen has found a way to hone his Aspects into senses, into a new way of seeing the world, but sometimes it just feels like he watches a bit too closely. Maybe he’s just concerned about Tony; anyway, he doesn’t feel that bothered. It’s good to know that Stephen is watching out for him.

‘’Yes, they did,’’ Tony says, and bows down towards the boy like a co-conspirator. If Peter is from Brichley, there’s a large chance that his parents were killed. Many refugees come from that area. ‘’And I’m sure you’re very, very brave, Peter. Braver than I am, I think.’’

‘’But you’ve got a sword,’’ Peter says, furrowing his brow.

‘’That doesn’t mean anything,’’ Tony says, and waves his hand around. ‘’This is all a new place for you, isn’t it! I’ve never moved anywhere. I think that’s scary, too.’’

‘’But if the bad men come again, you can defend yourself,’’ Peter insists. Apparently, the sword thing is rather big with him. It’s not as if Tony wasn’t the same, at that age. He vaguely remembers bullying his father into letting him into the workshop.

Stephen clasps his hands. ‘’Maybe Tony can make you a sword, too, so you can defend yourself any time you want!’’ he declares. ‘’He’s made a thousand swords, you know, Peter? I bet he’d show you.’’

‘’I’m sure the King has a lot of other matters to attend to,’’ May says desperately. ‘’And Peter’s a little young for a sword, don’t you think?’’

Stephen stands up swiftly and smoothly, moving to stand behind Tony. One of his hands, still ungloved in the early morning hours, the scars clearly visible in the soft light, stills on his shoulders. ‘’Just a token that he shouldn’t be afraid,’’ Stephen says quietly enough for Peter to miss the sentiment behind it. ‘’Nothing sharp, nothing too dangerous. And I think the workshop has been lonely without a royal visitor.’’

Tony has to hand it to him - Stephen knows how to play his cards. Tony rolls his eyes, but leans into the sorcerer nonetheless. 

‘’I think we could make some time,’’ he says. ‘’It’ll be completely safe. So, Peter, what do you think? Do you want to see how to make a sword? I could teach you how to use it, too, if you wanted. Then no one would ever hurt you again.’’

‘’Or May,’’ Peter adds, and something in Tony softens.

‘’Or May.’’

Peter smiles - a loud and joyous thing, sunlight on a face. ‘’Okay, Master King!’’ he says politely, and tugs May’s sleeve. ‘’The King’s going to show me swords!’’

May’s expression is one of slightly lost gratitude. ‘’Thank you,’’ she says. ‘’I don’t - thank you. We’ll - we’ll get going, now. Say thank you to the King, Peter.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ Peter says sincerely, and then May has whisked him out of the door. Maybe she’s embarrassed; she certainly doesn’t seem to know what to do with Tony’s attention on Peter. 

It just leaves Tony, Stephen and Friday sitting there, with a tray full of bread and sweet marmalade. Tony picks it up, if only to have something to do with his hands; Stephen moves, easily stealing one of his slices of bread as he moves back to his book.

‘’That’s a nice thing you did,’’ Friday says. ‘’I know she’s been worried about Peter.’’

‘’How did he end up in her care, anyway?’’ Tony asks. ‘’Doesn’t he have closer relatives?’’

Friday shifts in her seat, and sighs. ‘’Peter is the child of Richard Parker. Do you remember that she used to work for the Parkers? When Peter was born, they had to find someone else. It’s not because she couldn’t care for Peter or because they wanted someone else - she was pushed out, because people figured out she was Richard’s bastard sister. Nobles don’t like it when families are close. She was forced to come here. In the end, it probably saved her life.’’

‘’Peter’s her nephew,’’ Stephen says, and drums his fingers on the book. His eyes are focused far away, a new normal. Tony can tell when he’s using his Aspects and when he’s not - for now, Stephen just seems lost in thought.

‘’A very kind child,’’ Friday offers. 

Stephen smiles. Tony just takes the first bite of his breakfast. He knows full well that Stephen arranged for May and Peter to drop it by, if only to coax him into meeting Peter and getting him to the workshop again. Stephen, so effortlessly directing Mind. It’s more than a weapon, more than an Aspect; this is Stephen, becoming the Sorcerer Supreme. 

Tony hopes this life will treat him better than it did his predecessor.

~*~

The courtyard is empty and cold in the early morning air, when Thor and Loki are set to leave.

‘’I’m going to miss you,’’ Tony confesses, even as Thor pats his back gently. The large axe is slung over his friend’s back, taking up more space than the rest of his sparse belongings. ‘’You sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer?’’

‘’Nay, my friend,’’ Thor says solemnly, and pulls back. ‘’These are concerning times. If Veston calls for aid, I shall come, but for now, we must look to our own lands. Asgard is troubled by the war.’’

‘’I doubt you’ll be attacked,’’ Tony says. ‘’But I get it. I hope you’ll stay safe.’’

Loki rolls his eyes. ‘’If he’s safe for too long, he’s going to look for trouble himself,’’ he mutters. ‘’And that’s always ten times worse.’’

Tony grins. ‘’You’re welcome to come back, if it comes to that, big guy,’’ he offers. 

‘’Tell Strange that he can stay in touch with me,’’ Loki says. ‘’As revolting as I find the notion of Aspects, I’m fairly certain all magic-users will need to stick together in a time like this. Another like Kaecilius may upset the entire balance of _seidr_ that has been maintained for so long. Strange will know this.’’

Tony nods, although his grasp on the Mystic Arts is still vague. He doesn’t think it’s something he’ll ever understand, no matter how many hours Stephen spends explaining. His only experience with it is what Stephen does, and he barely understands; it’s not his world. That’s fine, though. He’s got Stephen for that.

‘’I don’t think there’s anyone like Kaecilius,’’ he says, though. ‘’But I’ll let Stephen know.’’

Loki looks thoughtful and darkly brooding, his slender fingers playing with the knives on his belt. He didn’t survive the battle fully unscathed, but he doesn’t look worse off. If anything, he looks more alive than he has since Tony met him.

‘’I wouldn’t be so sure,’’ Loki mutters, and then shakes his head, as if he hadn’t meant to say it. 

Thor inclines his head before Tony has a moment to think on it. ‘’We’ll keep in touch,’’ he promises. ‘’We are your allies, Tony Stark. Don’t forget it.’’

‘’And you,’’ Tony says, and waves them off as Loki teleports them. One second, and the Asgardians have disappeared - he stands in the courtyard by himself, cold and freezing. In the Palace, he sees others starting the day. 

He takes a deep breath, and turns back inside.

~*~

Aldrich Killian dies in the middle of a cold night, with no trial and no sound.

Tony looks at his body, laid out before him in one of the healer’s rooms for individual sessions and surgery. Killian’s neck is sliced open, the sword having cut through it within a second. He might not even have felt it at all. Stephen runs a finger over the wound, his eyes unseeing but his hands steady, and then draws two steps back to stand just behind Tony and his entourage.

‘’This,’’ Tony says heavily, ‘’is not acceptable.’’

His Knights are by his side. Rhodes stands on his left, an array of emotions flitting over his face; relief, maybe, but also confusion, anger, betrayal. Happy just seems concerned. Everett, their newest member, doesn’t let anything show, just stands quietly and firmly. Tony is glad he appointed him to this station; he’s shown he deserves it, and he’s showing it still. 

Clint’s arms are crossed, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. Everything about him is unrepentant; up to the angry curl of his lips down to the widening of his nostrils.

‘’That you would’ve let Natasha die,’’ Clint says, ‘’while we had a traitor in our midst who should be executed - that’s the thing that is not acceptable.’’

‘’So you took the Cloak,’’ Stephen says. The Cloak is by his side now; it’s hard to see if it has any emotions, if it has any inclinations about what has happened, what it’s been used for. 

‘’Yeah,’’ Clint says. 

‘’And you Mastered Soul,’’ Stephen continues. Tony turns to him. He hadn’t even thought about it like that. He only knows what Clint has done.

Clint had brought Killian’s body to the healers, an hour after he’d died. He’d dragged the corpse up to here, sat down on the chair, and told them to go to Natasha. The healer had sent someone for Tony and his Knights; Clint hadn’t moved since then. He’d had the Cloak with him, which had returned to Stephen’s side promptly the moment he entered with Tony. 

All in all, even if Clint hadn’t been willing to confess everything, it would have been clear what has happened. Natasha’s sudden and unexpected complete recovery, taking span in the course of an hour, leaves no doubt whatsoever.

‘’I didn’t know I would,’’ Clint says quietly, and sighs. ‘’But I would’ve done it again, even if I had. She’s alive, Strange. She was good as dead, and now she’s alive. Same as Tony.’’

‘’But you killed a man to make it happen,’’ Tony says heatedly. ‘’He was our prisoner -’’

‘’He was guilty,’’ Clint says. ‘’Yes, I killed him. I did exactly what Strange did during that battle, except one of our allies died to have you live. Who cares if Killian lives or dies? He _deserves_ to die. You had an execution planned for Stane, and Killian did the exact same things that Stane did. Except Stane also killed your mum.’’

That stings. Tony thinks he did the right thing, still, in wanting to keep Killian alive. He had information on Menteri they couldn’t have gotten anywhere else, and they needed that. Killian would’ve made a deal eventually; in the end, he was a slimy man, believing himself smart, wanting himself to be comfortable. He would’ve budged, and Obadiah Stane would never have. That’s the main difference, here, the real difference.

But to Clint, that’s not what this is.

Stephen takes a step forward. ‘’Congratulations, Barton,’’ he says. ‘’You found something worth losing a colour for. You’re a Master of Soul now.’’

‘’Clint,’’ Tony says, and Clint’s eyes fly to him. There’s something between them now, something that can’t be fixed. It almost breaks him, having the Knights break up like this. They got Natasha back, yes, and he’s overjoyed about her health returning, of course he is - but this was not their call to make. ‘’You know I wanted Killian alive. You know we needed him, and you did this anyway. I can’t - you know you can’t _do_ that.’’

Clint is already shaking his head. ‘’I had to.’’

‘’I know,’’ Tony says. 

‘’I’m resigning,’’ Clint says. ‘’I know you’d send me away anyway, but I’m resigning. Nat’s staying here. We already talked. I can go, and follow Steve, whatever, he might need some help. I can’t be here anymore. This war - I can’t be here.’’

‘’That’s not really his call,’’ Stephen interrupts before Tony can even open his mouth. ‘’You lost a colour, Barton. You’re a Master of the Mystic Arts. That means the moment you lost orange, you were no longer a Knight of Vice. You are under my direction, as acting Sorcerer Supreme.’’

Tony turns to Stephen. He seems to have some sort of plan. He is right, in a way. No one can be both a sorcerer and a Knight; they are two seperate orders. Clint’s not his anymore, but he belongs to the Sanctum.

‘’I never was part of the Sanctum,’’ Clint says. ‘’I chose not to.’’

‘’You chose not to lose a colour, but you did just now. You’re a Master, whether you want to or not. And I think I’ve got a mission for you.’’

Clint smiles wryly. ‘’No getting out of this one, then?’’

Stephen tilts his head. ‘’You could. But you did kill a man that would’ve given us answers. We can’t undo that, but you can find information of your own. And now you’re a Master of Soul, there’s a distinct advantage you have over a great many people.’’

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

‘’I’ll do it,’’ Clint says. 

‘’Wonderful,’’ Stephen murmurs. ‘’I need you to track someone down. Go to the Sanctum, first. Wong will give you the details - and he’ll give you a cloak. It might take a while for someone to sow an orange pattern into it, but then again - you might need an entire different cloak, if you’re to be inconspicuous.’’

Clint snorts. ‘’Will I need a secret identity while searching out this mystery person?’’ he asks.

‘’Preferably, yes,’’ Stephen says. 

‘’Right,’’ Tony interrupts. ‘’All nice and well, but if this has been handled - I’m sorry, Clint. It’s - for the best, this way. I never meant for Natasha to be hurt. You know that - you know that I didn’t.’’

Clint looks towards the still body of Killian. ‘’But you wouldn’t have done what it takes.’’

With that, he walks right past all of them and out. No one stops him. It’s clear what’s going to happen. Clint doesn’t have a choice - he found something worth sacrificing for. Not just orange, but his place here, too. The Knights have lost Steve and Clint in one go, and something in Tony aches, knowing it’ll never be the same. There will always be this break in his ranks, two people he’d fought with for years gone.

His family is tearing apart around him, and he’s steadied only by the comfort of those that remain. Stephen’s hand is one his arm, and Tony turns towards him, very aware of his Knights’ presence.

‘’Where are you going to send him?’’

‘’I don’t know where,’’ Stephen says. ‘’But I’m sure he’ll be able to track down whoever needs tracking. And I have some concerns about some sorcerers.’’

Tony doesn’t ask. 

‘’Let’s go see Natasha,’’ he says instead, and Stephen smiles.

~*~

‘’I sent him on his way,’’ Wong says when Stephen enters the Sanctum. It’s buzzing with sorcerers, most of the place needing rebuilding. Vivid colours that Stephen’s can’t see flow in the air; he can hear the hum of Power and Reality, some walls being repaired with Time and exact placements being recalled with Mind.

He can hear the pleasant buzz of Soul, too. He can hear that one everywhere, ever so loud, if he lets himself.

‘’Good,’’ Stephen says. ‘’Did you give Clint a cloak?’’

His own Cloak does a dignified little twirl at the mention. Stephen is still not sure how aware it is of the events that occurred. Maybe he should be more concerned; as it is, he’s sure no other sorcerer has even considered trying to use Soul. For the best, perhaps. He’s not even sure they’d manage.

Clint had been - different. But he’s a Master now, same as Stephen; same as any of them, here. 

‘’Ronin,’’ Wong says, and hurries to clarify when Stephen turns in his direction. ‘’He said he’d need a different name. He picked Ronin. He will contact us every fortnight or so. Do you think sending only one man is enough? Someone who’s never finished their education at Kamar-Taj, at that?’’

Stephen hums and moves along. Wong doesn’t seem concerned, and just traces his steps until they get to what used to be the Ancient One’s rooms. It still smells like her, and there’s traces of so many Aspects here. Stephen thinks she lied about the things she Mastered; she’d certainly lied about Space. He thinks she had all of them but Soul.

He’ll never know, will he know? And in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

‘’I think,’’ he says eventually, fingers tracing over her wooden door frame, ‘’that Ronin is our only option at following Mordo. He won’t expect someone who knows Soul, and he certainly won’t expect us to send someone who isn’t used to life at the Sanctum. He’ll be on the look-out for one of the older Masters. Clint will be able to get close to him.’’

‘’They have the same anger,’’ Wong says. ‘’Eventually, a purple cloak and a fake name won’t hold up against scrutiny. Besides, they’ve met before.’’

Stephen lets his fingers fall and fully steps into the room. He can feel sunlight hitting his arms, the goosebump on his skin. The door falls shut behind Wong, the click in the lock a higher pitch than the one in the Palace. He can smell Mind, and Time, and her ability in them.

She has sat here, on this floor, and saw the future of Ireningas. She saw him losing colour and colour, until he lost his vision. But Tony lives, and so does he. 

The best possible ending, she’d said. Stephen isn’t sure whether he can believe her. For all he knows, everything she has ever said was a lie. He’d like to believe this, though. It was worth it. He’s quickly learning that there are other ways to see, other ways to sense. 

The only thing he’d really change is the last thing he saw. Tony’s blood on his hands, the orange glow, reflected in the sticky liquid. Tony’s eyes, so dazed, the flicker of life - and nothing, then. Maybe it’s a good thing, to have the last thing be the thing he gave up his sight for. 

If the last thing had been a proper sunset, Tony on his blankets, carefree and spread out, his fingers reaching for the pillows, his back muscles moving as he turns to Stephen - it would’ve been lovely, but it would’ve hurt in another way.

‘’Mordo will accept him because Clint - Ronin, because they have that same anger. Mordo needs allies, and he can’t turn down someone as talented as him. If he even recognises him - well, I doubt he will, but even if he does, it will not matter as much. Ronin will do the right thing, in the end. I’m just hoping that Mordo will, too.’’

‘’The accounts are disturbing. You’ve heard the rumours, same as I. Do you think there’s a way back from that? All the sorcerers he’s killing? It’s not for a good cause, Stephen. Mordo is a murderer. He’ll join this war, and it won’t be our side.’’

A boy he knew once, Mordo. He’s quite sure he doesn’t anymore. Mordo hadn’t believed it, he knows. But if Stephen had changed, then so had he. Now more than ever; Mordo has lost the beliefs he’s clung to all of his life. 

‘’We’ll see,’’ he murmurs, and thinks about the centre of the room he’s standing in. Time flows, there, disturbing and yet content, forever rippling. This is where she sat; this is where she turned herself into Agamotto. 

The myth about the man who’d changed the future so much that he lost the one he loved. The man, Kaecilius had told him, who’d destroyed himself in the process of doing so. He’s still not sure where he fits into the narrative, or the Ancient One; is she a cautionary tale? If neither she nor Kaecilius had watched, where would they be now?

And should he watch? Should he speed up Time around himself, and protect Tony - protect the Sanctum, Ireningas, Veston at large? The entire continent, from Asgard to Skoltia? Will he bring an unwanted future upon himself just by making that choice?

He has been taught the basic mechanisms of Time. He’d been taught by the woman he has learnt to doubt - the woman who gave her life to protect Tony’s.

‘’Stephen?’’ Wong asks. ‘’I’ve gathered some of the Masters to officiate your ceremony as Sorcerer Supreme. It’s not as grand as Stark’s coronation, but it’ll be something.’’

Stephen turns back. ‘’I’m coming,’’ he says. ‘’You go ahead. I’ll be there in five minutes.’’

He can feel Wong’s doubt with Mind, but his friend turns around. The click of the door is pitched higher again. Stephen never got the chance to get used to the Sanctum, the one place he’s spent a lifetime trying to get to. He’s still not familiar with it - he’s barely ever seen the inside of it, and now he never will.

And now he’s the leader of it.

He exhales, and presses his fingers against the floor where she used to sit, and where she saw the choices he’d make.

‘’Thank you for saving him,’’ he murmurs, and sits down, cross-legged, like she must have.

The Cloak wraps itself around his wrist, and stays there until Stephen’s five minutes are up, when he rises to become the Sorcerer Supreme.

~*~

If someone did not know that the throne room was completely destroyed during the battle, they might have been fooled upon seeing it now. The throne stands as it was, the King’s first and foremost, the smaller one meant for the Queen on its right. The hall echoes his footsteps, and Stephen remembers first coming here. The sorcerers had sat on one side, the citizens and nobles on the other; they’d seen him become a Master of Time, they’d been there for the promises he made.

 _Do you swear you will use your abilities to protect your king?_ He hadn’t known. How could he have known? She had, though. She had. _I swear_.

Tony sits on the throne, now, the crown almost carelessly laid out on the arm rest, next to his left hand. Stephen can feel it, can almost see it through Tony’s eyes - barely, not fully. He can feel the hints of Mind coming from the newest King of Veston, but he can sense the traces of the Mystic Arts coming from everything in the throne room. The crown vaguely feels like Power.

‘’All done, then?’’ Stephen asks.

‘’We haven’t even started yet,’’ Tony says wearily. ‘’In ten minutes, the court will open. The nobles will be coming in soon, and all the citizens who want a say. Some of your sorcerers, too, I imagine.’’

‘’A King’s job is never done,’’ Stephen says, and walks towards him. ‘’But - this room, it’s been restored. I can feel the completeness of it. I can feel where the thrones are, and your crown, and I can feel where the carpet stops and the stone begins.’’

Tony sighs, rises from the throne and takes a few steps, and then his hands are pressed to Stephen’s, those calloused but gentle fingertips running down Stephen’s scarred palms.

‘’We put the window in last,’’ Tony says. ‘’The tinted glass. You told me what the Ancient One told you, so I - I put in Black, too. For you. I know you can’t see it, but I want you to know it’s there. All the colours of all the Aspects, and Black.’’

Stephen smiles and presses a light kiss to his lips. ‘’Thank you,’’ he says. ‘’You know, I might’ve known. A sorcerer with no experience in any Aspects has white eyes - a sorcerer with all Aspects could’ve been known to see black.’’ 

‘’You were the first to Master Soul,’’ Tony says. ‘’No one could’ve known.’’

‘’I wonder, now,’’ Stephen tells him, and lets Tony’s hands drop, instead holding his arm as he leads him back to the throne. ‘’You’ve seen me - reading. It’s not reading, as such - I can feel the traces of Mind from others who’ve read the books before me, if I use Time, too. That’s how I feel the story, and it gives me a great many interpretations, too. Sometimes from the ones who wrote the book down in the first place.’’

‘’I wondered,’’ Tony says, and Stephen can feel the way that Tony is furrowing his brow, wondering where he’s going. He decides to take pity on him.

‘’Do you remember the first Queen of Veston?’’ he asks. 

Tony hums. ‘’I’ve read the myths,’’ he says. ‘’She was said to be Sorcerer Supreme, and when she died, one of her sons became King, and the other took her title. It’s why the division exists, according to historians.’’

Stephen nods, and presses himself closer to Tony for a second before letting go. The closeness is comforting, but this isn’t the place or time for it - still, it’s hard not to indulge a little. They have so little time to themselves, now, and less to come.

‘’Her sons were ill,’’ he says, thinking back on the way the words had whispered to them. They’d smelled of blue, of a piercing cold autumn afternoon, a bird flying in the crisp air and clear sky. Centuries ago, and still Mind came to him. She must have been powerful, and she must have been so, so afraid.

‘’She healed them?’’ Tony asks. Stephen smiles. He’s always been quick on the uptake, Tony. They’ll need that sharp intelligence. It is now clearer than ever that the war that is coming will not be so easily subverted. 

‘’Yes,’’ he says. ‘’She loved them so much, and she’d studied a great many Aspects. It was believed that she was a Master of Power, though. She held both of her sons in her arms, and cried, and she divided her life and gave it to them. It was enough for them to live, but she did not. The son who’d been born seeing white, he followed in her footsteps. He is the one who philosophized on the existence of Soul, the Aspect that had granted him life in his mother’s place. The other one took the throne she left, and they worked together, and they built a city from the town they lived in. They called it Ireningas - the people of iron, it means.’’

‘’She Mastered Soul,’’ Tony says quietly. ‘’And she died.’’

‘’Maybe the Ancient One knew,’’ Stephen continues. ‘’Maybe she didn’t. I think there’s a great many things we might never find out.’’

Tony sighs, and now he’s the one pressing closer, as if he can’t help himself either. Stephen lets him, although their time must almost be up. He can hear the buzzing of Mind outside the throne room, nobles waiting for permission to be let in. Just a few more moments to themselves, and then back to the world. Stephen presses his nose in Tony’s hair, and breathes.

‘’We lost a great many things,’’ Tony mutters into Stephen’s tunic. ‘’But you - I promised you we’d go to your hometown, once. Dosham. I haven’t forgotten. We’ll take a trip, once things have settled a bit. I’ll have to meet your parents, and your sister.’’

‘’I’d like that,’’ Stephen says, and presses a hand to Tony’s Arc. It shines with Soul, and he wonders. There are a great many secrets out in the universe, and he’s keen to know how a single sorcerer, who hadn’t Mastered a single Aspect, had managed to combine Soul and Space and create the thing. Space is what keeps the shards away from Tony’s heart, of course, but Soul - he can feel it, humming steadily. Had the doctor known he put it there?

How many people know Soul? It can’t be only him and Barton. It’ll be a good project to hand to one of his sorcerers - Foster, maybe. She seems like she’d want to learn more. He shelves the thought for later, and just focuses on Tony again.

‘’You sacrificed so much for me,’’ Tony says. ‘’All the colours you gave up, and your hands, and your vision - _so much_. I feel like I can’t do anything right by you, sometimes. But you’re still here.’’

Stephen runs his hand over Tony’s arm. ‘’You sacrificed more than you think you did, Tony,’’ he murmurs. ‘’And I got you out of it. Sacrifice isn’t a noble thing, or a good thing, you know? Most of the time, sacrifice is the consequence of a situation that wasn’t fair to begin with. Unfortunately, these are unfair times, and an unfair world. We’ll have to make the best of it.’’

‘’I know,’’ Tony says, and pushes back to kiss him again. ‘’I know it’ll be hard, and I know it’s not - it’s not a competition. Sometimes, I just wish we had a - wall, or something, that we could build around the whole country. Something that’d keep us safe.’’

‘’That’s not something that’s possible,’’ Stephen reminds him gently. 

Tony sags down. ‘’I know.’’

‘’Right, then,’’ Stephen says, and pushes him up. With a few steps, he’s near the throne, and he picks up the crown. The metal is smooth in his hands, cold and heavy, and the Power whispers to him. It whispers of responsibility, and Tony, and good kings and good men. Stephen holds it for a second before he puts it back on Tony’s head, the hair soft under his hands.

‘’Ready to make the world fairer?’’ Tony says, and the joke falls hollow, but the sincerity of him, the real hope underneath the warmth of his skin - Stephen can smell Power, and Soul, and Time, Space, Mind and Reality, all burning in Tony and his future, Tony and his willingness to create a Veston in peace. 

Tony sits down in his throne. Stephen can’t see him, not with his eyes, but he knows he’s never been more proud of him.

He takes the throne on the right. The last person in it had been Maria; Tony had told him that he should use it, now. It’s a blatant message to everyone who will see it, and that is exactly what it should be. King and Sanctum stand together; no man or war will break them apart.

They stand together, and he can feel Tony, and he takes a deep breath.

With a snap of his fingers, the door to the throne room opens. A dozen nobles, sorcerers and citizens are waiting, and are the first to lay their eyes on the King and the Sorcerer Supreme by his side. Natasha walks in, pale but healthy, and with her come the other Knights; Rhodes, Happy, Ross. Pepper walks next to Rhodes, and Happy is accompanied by May and Peter. Friday is there, too. 

All of them shine, individually and together. Stephen can see them in ways he has never seen before - suddenly, it seems beautiful, and he imagines the strings of orange and blue, cacophonous in their vibrancy. No one is brighter than Tony, to him; all colours flow to him and back, Soul murmuring a gentle song as the King turns his head towards Stephen.

‘’The court is open,’’ Tony says, and his voice echoes in the hall.

They are doing this together, King and Sorcerer Supreme, friends by their side. There is no other way of doing this. Stephen smiles, and watches a thousand ephemeral colours light up and die as a new world begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank all of you so much for reading! all your nice comments have given me the motivation to complete this fic in a time in which writing didn't happen very easily. also shoutout to Dragon - the consequence our headcanonning of more than 1,5 years ago is finally complete! who'd have thought? time to headcanon some new stuff!
> 
> I've had some comments last chapter asking if there was going to be a sequel; truth to be told, I wasn't planning on it. I've always meant for the Sorcerer of Ephemeral Colours to end right here, at the brink of something greater, with a new King and a new Sorcerer Supreme ready to fight for their world and each other. If I have some inspiration, I might write a little something, so never say never. For now I've got other projects planned, though! :) so I'll hopefully meet all of you again on a later date. thanks to all of you who left kudos, commented, bookmarked or just lurked! see ya in the next one!


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